Memories
by RabbitBleachFan
Summary: A hand touched her face. She didn't know how she knew it was a hand – she just did. It floated over her face for a moment. She heard a sigh of relief. The next thing she knew, she was drawn out of the wet stuff and lifted into a pair of arms. Whoever the person was, they were warm, and she easily sunk back into nothingness. "Oh, god... wh... I have no idea who I am."
1. Who What When Where Why?

**I know. Some of you may be thinking, "Really? Another story, Bunny-chan? Don't you have enough to finish already?" The answer is yes. Yes, I do. However, I've been dying to start uploading this for a while now, and even though it's not finished, it's very well started.**

**Yes, another UlquiHime, as well. **

**This Ulquiorra is unlike any other Ulquiorra I've ever written. He's not depressed, he's not a mass murderer, he's not exactly gentle or caring, and my GOSH, he is so freaking sarcastic it blows my mind! He acts like a mix between an antisocial teenaged boy and my brother's best friend (who cannot keep his mouth shut when he has something snarky to say). I love the many faces of Ulquiorra. :)**

**On to the thingie.**

* * *

_Everything was dark; dark and wet. She felt something wet and soft touch her face, and hot breath fanned over her face. In the back of her mind, she heard a sharp, loud sound, but she couldn't recognize what it was. She knew what it was somewhere, but she couldn't figure it out. It was like there was a brick wall in her mind that kept her from thinking or even opening her eyes._

_Again, the sound rang in her ears. She heard herself moan softly and felt her cheek rest against hard, smooth-edged objects._

_A hand touched her face. She didn't know how she knew it was a hand – she just did. It floated over her face for a moment. She heard a sigh of relief. The next thing she knew, she was drawn out of the wet stuff and lifted into a pair of arms. Whoever the person was, they were warm, and she easily sunk back into nothingness._

–

"Doctor!" a voice exclaimed.

"Doctor, she's waking up!" a similar voice, this one from a man, joined.

Moaning, she felt herself tense as a hand touched her head. The feeling of the fingers was faint, as if something was between them and her skin, but it hurt.

"Shh, miss," a higher-pitched, but male voice soothed, "it's all right."

She tried to open her eyes, but the light made them sting so she closed them tightly.

"Verona, turn off the lights!"

"Yessir – yessir!" the man-nurse, she figured, chirped, and everything went dim.

Slowly, she blinked her eyes open. Everything blurred for a long moment before clearing steadily. She came face to face with a stunningly pink-haired, glove-handed, bespectacled man who smiled down nicely at her.

"Well, good morning," he greeted pleasantly. "How do you feel?"

After a moment, she replied frankly, "Like I've been shot through the head."

The strange doctor's smile faded and he confessed, "You're not far off. You had a hole the size of a half-dollar in your skull. No bullet though, so I'd have to say you hit your head on a rock." Intrigued, he asked, "What happened?"

Desperately, she searched her mind. What had happened? How did she get a hole in her head? How did she get in this waco hospital?

Finally, she realized there was nothing. Everything, aside from the vague memory of being pulled out of what she now figured was water and being woken up, was utterly and completely blank.

Suddenly feeling open and terrified and vulnerable, she gently cradled her face and breathed shakily, "Oh, god... wh... I have no idea who I am."

_I don't know who I am. I don't __**know**__ who __**I am**__. __**I**__ don't know who __**I**__ am!_ She was officially in a panic.

"I don't know who I am, I don't know what happened, I don't know where I am or how I got here... Oh my god!" she shrieked, taking in air in little, rapid gasps. "I don't know who I am!"

"Miss – miss, calm down!" the doctor urged, gently setting a latex-covered hand on her shoulder. "You won't do yourself any good if you hyperventilate-"

"Who are _you_?" she questioned as she eyed him with confusion. "Where am I? How did I get in a hospital?"

"Clinic, actually," the man corrected, withdrawing his hand and crossing his arms. Pushing up his glasses, he introduced, "I'm Doctor Szayel Granz, and you're in a small farming town in south Minnesota. You also happen to be safe, miss, so you needn't fret."

"_Needn't fret?"_ she thought incredulously, blinking. _I have no idea who I am and he says I "needn't fret!"_

"Doctor! Doctor, he's back!"

"He's back, Doctor!"

"Doctor-"

Face reddening with frustration, Szayel snapped, "Shut up, you two!" Instantly, they went silent. Smiling gently at her, he bid, "I'll be right back." With that, he left the room, but didn't close the door.

She listened intently as the door opened and the doctor greeted the newcomer amicably.

"Ah! Ulquiorra! That was faster than I thought."

"Don't insult my tracking skills," a frank, level voice retorted. Sighing, the man continued, "I went back to the ravine. I found this." There was a pause. "It must have fallen out of her pocket."

Szayel didn't reply for a long moment. Finally, he spoke, relief in his voice. "This is wonderful, my friend; thank you."

"Wonderful?" the other man echoed. "How is a piece of paper wonderful?"

"She has amnesia, Ulquiorra," Szayel explained seriously. "She doesn't know who she is or where she came from."

Again, there was a silence. Finally – "Well, this is quite the quandary."

"I know," the pink-haired man replied sullenly. "I'm sure we can consult the others at the town meeting tonight. She won't be going anywhere until I'm sure the stitches will hold, anyways."

"Hm." The murmur was thoughtful and monotone. "Is she awake now?"

"Why, yes! She is, as a matter of fact!" the doctor answered cheerily. "Would you like to see her?"

"No."

"Oh, come now! You _did_ fish her out of the river! Surely that merits some sort of concern for her wellbeing!"

"She's in good mysophobic hands, Szayel," Ulquiorra scoffed softly.

"My personal fear of contamination is not the issue here," Szayel retorted.

_That explains the gloves,_ she thought.

"What _is_ the issue," the bespectacled man continued seriously, "is that she doesn't know who she is. She needs a friend, Ulquiorra – now more than ever."

"Feel free to volunteer." With that, the door opened and closed again.

A moment passed before the doctor entered the dim room once again, looking thoroughly perplexed. He held a crinkled, barely damp piece of paper about the size of a postcard and studied it closely as he pulled up a chair and sat beside her bed.

"Who was that?" she asked quietly.

"Ulquiorra," Szayel replied with a dejected sigh. Smirking slightly, he added almost jokingly, "He can be an utterly unpleasant person at times; his head tends to be in the right place, but his heart is always a few paces behind. He," the pinkie went on, "along with his demon dog, Marcy, are the ones that found you."

"Demon dog?" she echoed, confused and mildly frightened. Her eyes went wide with anticipation as she waited for an answer.

Eventually, the medic looked up from the piece of paper and laughed for a second before remarking, "She's not actually a demon. Marcy was mistreated as a pup, and it even took Ulquiorra quite a long time to gain her trust. However, now she's completely devoted to him, but on the downside she hates everyone else with a passion as black as her fur."

Sitting up straight, she asked with a sudden burst of glee, "What kind of a dog is she?"

Szayel mentally noted her cheeriness and smiled. "I believe she's a black lab and golden retriever mix," he remarked.

"I bet she's cute," she giggled, folding her hands on her lap. Peeking at the piece of paper, she asked, "What's that?"

"A note Ulquiorra found," the doctor stated. Meeting her eyes, he inquired, "Would you like me to read it?"

She nodded.

"Are you sure?"

Blinking and confused, she inquired, "Why would you ask that?"

"Because I should warn you," Szayel answered lowly, his gold eyes solemn, "that you might not like what it says."

After a long moment of thinking, she nodded. "I want to know who I am," she whispered sincerely.

Another pause followed. Finally, the pink-haired man sighed and began, " 'Orihime, I screwed up, and now I have a lot of explaining to do. I know you're pissed at me. Please, give me a chance to let you know how sorry I am. Meet me at our place.' "

She blinked twice. _Well, for one, I know my name now. For another, my significant other was probably cheating on me._

"Orihime, hm?" Szayel mused. Smiling nicely at her, he complimented, "It's a pretty name." When she blushed, he chuckled softly. After a moment, he inquired, "Does it bring anything back? Anything at all?"

Honestly, she shook her head. "Not a thing," she answered meekly.

The man pursed his lips thoughtfully and nodded. "Very well, then," he bid. "I'm afraid you'll have to stay until a missing person's notice comes out and we can find out where you belong."

"Stay? Stay here?" she asked, glancing around the room.

Szayel laughed again, shaking his head. "Oh, no; I'm afraid I'm not the best company."

"I don't think that's true. You're very nice," she stated confidently.

The slightest dash of color tinted his cheeks and he chuckled. "Well, thank you, miss, but I'm often very busy with my studies, and to be quite honest, this is the only room for my patients. There are about a hundred of us in town and another dozen or so who live on their farms, so I rarely have overnight patients, but it still needs to be open in the case I do once you're well," he explained.

"Only a hundred?" she copied, surprised. "Really?"

"When I 'small farming town,' miss, I meant _small_. Anyways," he continued, standing and smiling assuringly, "I'm sure your boarding will be part of the discussion at the town meeting tonight." When she suddenly seemed concerned, he continued, "You'll have plenty of time to meet everyone before I discharge you. It'll be at least two days before I'll let you out of my sight just in case of unexpected complications."

She knew he meant to assure her, but it wasn't working much.

"I would suggest that you try and get some rest. I'll have Lumina bring you something to eat soon," Szayel smiled in that half-smirk way of his before giving her small wave and heading toward the door.

Before he left, she peeped hurriedly, "Doctor?"

Glancing back, he asked, "Yes?"

"What day is it?" she inquired curiously.

"Sunday, August seventh."

Nodding, she smiled softly. "Thank you."

With that, he exited into the hallway, and his footsteps receded slowly along with her consciousness.

–

"Why do we do this every week?" the blue-haired man complained in the back of the room. "Nothing ever changes in this goddamned town!"

"No one ever said you had to come," the spiffily dressed, dark-skinned man remarked lowly as he moved up the aisles.

"Shut up, Tousen!"

As a woman with long, oceanic platinum hair practically waddled toward the front of the room, arm in arm with her lanky husband, she glanced placidly at him and remarked, "That's an incredibly rude way to address a pastor, whether you like him or not."

Without even making eye-contact with the curved woman (although his eyes made contact with other things for a few seconds), he turned to his tall, wiry friend and asked, "Can't you do _anything_ about her?"

"I tried," the black-haired male shrugged, "and I ended up getting married. Then I tried again, and now she's pregnant." Letting out a short cackle, he finished, "It just doesn't work."

"Darn right it doesn't," she huffed shortly, and with that she began to pull him towards their regular seats in the chapel.

Glancing back at the door, the burly, blue-haired man grinned as he spied his pale, self-declared friend grinding the lit end of a cigarette against the heel of his boot to put it out. "Ulquiorra! I was thinking you weren't going to make it!" he declared loudly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Do you have to be so loud all the time, Grimmjow?" Ulquiorra scoffed, entering the room. "And don't say stupid things," he added flatly, "I always come." Despite his disdainful tone, he sat next to the blunette.

When the meeting started, the mayor was absent. It wasn't unusual; it was the first Sunday of the month, and the mayor always went to the city on the first Sunday of the month, without exception. No one questioned it; he was the mayor, and he could do whatever the hell he wanted.

The main portion of the meeting was spent merely going over what everyone knew – harvest was coming up, the weather had been good, and the crops were full and lush. Usually, these meetings were only twenty minutes long or less, but today, everyone else had something new to talk about.

In a scholarly voice, Reverend Tousen looked out at the community with white eyes (yes, he was blind. Everyone was used to being stared at by those empty eyes like he could see directly into the deepest parts of their souls) and summoned, "Doctor Granz, please update your fellow citizens on our Miss Doe."

Szayel stood, his bright pink hair standing out horribly against the faded blue and white surfaces of the old church building. "Thanks to Ulquiorra, she's doing well," he began. Everyone heard Grimmjow snort, but no one responded aside from Tousen's death-glare. "However, if you haven't heard already, she has amnesia. All we know is that her name is Orihime from a note she had in her pocket. She remembers absolutely nothing about her former life."

The platinum-blonde woman gasped softly, bringing light fingers to her lips and whispering sympathetically, "Oh, the poor dear!"

"I'm sure she'll appreciate your concern, Nelliel," the doctor smiled pleasantly, "but after I find out if the stitches have taken hold, the fact will still remain that she needs a place to stay."

For a long time, everyone was silent. Honestly, barely anyone lived alone. Adult siblings lived together, along with parents and children, friends lived with friends, some people lived above their shops (though there were very few of them, and even then they were the necessary ones), and then others lived out of town in practical cottages on their farms.

"If she had shown up a week ago, we would've been able to put off the nursery for a while," Nelliel huffed, crossing her arms over the bump of her stomach.

"That helps no one, Nel," her husband remarked.

"I know that!" she snapped, glaring at him with flaming hazel eyes, "I was just saying, Nnoitra! You don't have to nitpick everything I say!"

The room seemed to sigh collectively. "There go the hormones!" a spiky, black-haired teen chuckled.

"Shut up, Ggio!" the woman shouted irritably.

"Yes," Szayel added exasperatedly, "please, Ggio – save the witty banter for later."

Half-frowning, the young man grunted a disappointed, "Whatever," and leaned back in his chair next to his sleeping grandfather.

Exhaling sharply, the pink-haired man asked, "No one has a spare room for a week?"

The hulking man in the center row laughed and offered jokingly, "She could stay in a jail cell if she wants!"

"Yammy, you're being completely unhelpful," Ulquiorra remarked sarcastically.

The town sheriff turned back, questioning, "What about _you_?"

Raising his thick, black eyebrows, the pale man stuffed his hands in his faded jeans. "Pardon?"

"That's true!" Nnoitra chuckled from the front of the room. "You do live in that big-ass house all by yourself!"

"Which is how I _like_ _it_," Ulquiorra replied coldly.

Szayel scoffed, urging, "She has no where else to stay!"

"She can stay with _you_," the emerald-eyed man shot back in monotone. "No one plans to get seriously injured for a long time, so she can use that room, and you know it."

"Ulquiorra, you're being unreasonab-"

"I'm being _perfectly_ reasonable," the black-haired male interrupted smoothly. "That house has been blissfully woman-free for the past twenty years, and I intend for it to remain so."

"You do have a woman in your house," Grimmjow smirked tauntingly, "although she's literally a bitch."

"And _this_ is why she tries to bite off your arms every time she sees you; and she's a dog, so she doesn't count."

"My point exactly!"

Sighing, Ulquiorra closed his eyes. "She's _not_ staying with _me_."

"Ulquiorra, you're the only person with an available extra room," Szayel reminded almost desperately. At the adamant look on the man's face, he explained, "It won't be for another day or two. You'll have plenty of time to clean up, if that's what you're worried about."

A few people laughed, but the aura around the pale man darkened considerably. "My house is cleaner than your clinic, Szayel," he retorted briskly. "I already took in one stray; I don't need another."

Suddenly, Nelliel jumped up and whirled around, cheeks red with fury. "You're taking her in, Ulquiorra, or I swear by all of my pregnant rage that I will scoop out your kidneys with a rusty spoon and make a pie out of them!" she screamed, all the while pointing accusing fingers and gesticulating wildly.

Chuckling, Nnoitra shook his head and murmured fondly, "That's m'girl."

The room went silent for a long moment. Ulquiorra stared impassively at the flaming woman, his chest rising and falling steadily as he thought. Nelliel was merely proving why he didn't want a woman in his house – they were overemotional, hormonal, irrational creatures. _Oh, dear god. _He really had no choice in the matter (he didn't much feel like having his kidneys removed. He liked his kidneys).

Finally, he sighed. "Fine," he relented, raking his fingers through his hair and exhaling heavily again. Meeting the triumphant gaze of the town doctor, he bid, "Have one of your minions drive her up to my house when you're content with her wellbeing." Before the pink-haired man could reply, he hurriedly added, "_Before_ six or _after_ five. No where between."

"Understood, my friend," Szayel smirked, nodding, "and thank you."

Ulquiorra grunted lowly and stood, exiting the church without another glance back.

Impressed, the reverend remarked, "Frank, but effective. Excellent method, Nelliel."

"Thank you," the hazel-eyed woman replied shortly, smiling pleasantly before sitting next to her husband again.

"Are we done?" Grimmjow shouted impatiently.

"Yes," the blind man huffed, "we are _quite_ done."

* * *

**Love, Bunny-chan**


	2. Won't You Take Me To Funkytown?

**Hello there again! I'm uploading again! Since it was requested and since I have, like, five chapters already done, here we go. In the future, I probably won't update as fast - just warning you.**

**Thanks to BeccaRomano (haha, the wait is over!), rayquaza girl (yay! *giddy squee), and Saiyuri Hurano (soon? How about NOW? SHABAM!) for reviewing! **

**For future chapters, I'll probably just respond to reviews in a PMS (has anyone ever noticed the abbreviation for "private message" is the same as "post menstrual syndrome?" LOL! I'm so twelve!), but there were only a few this time and I just woke up and I'm tired and not even halfway through my coffee so... yeah. **

**I don't love you less, and I don't appreciate the reviews less! I'm just really, really tired because I was up until some unnatural hour last night (watching Mythbusters!).**

**Also, thanks to those who favorited/subscribed (which is mostly the people who reviewed, but still!)!**

**I love you~~! **

**I'm also feeling incredibly affectionate this morning. If you didn't know, I'm on vacation, and my puppy is home with a friend of ours who is staying at my family's house. My puppy sleeps with me and cuddles me and loves me all the time, and I haven't snuggled him and his soft ears for a week. I just heard that he's missing me a lot, too. It makes me sad and makes me want to hug things...**

**So I'll just internet hug you ALL! *HUG!***

**Okay, now I'm done. **

**No! No, I'm not!**

***MASSIVE INTERNET HUG OF LOVE~!***

**Okay, NOW I'm done.**

**Also, just so all y'all know (because apparently in California, NO ONE KNOWS THIS!), putting quotation marks ("these things") around words does NOT emphasize them! Using CAPITAL letters and _italics_ and bold letters and underlining DOES, but "quotation marks" DON'T!**

**I am now done with my rant. Seriously (:P). **

* * *

"These are _mine_?" Orihime squeaked, inspecting the red, frilly blouse and the black fitted skirt that would end no lower than her knees. She had _definitely_ been going on a date with a hot guy. Grimacing, she shook her head, "This is worse than the hospital clothes."

Szayel laughed, handing her a bundle. "Good, because the school teacher dropped these off," he smiled. "I'm sure they'll suit your tastes better." Wiggling his gloved fingers at her, he closed the door behind him.

When he had offered to show her around, they had both agreed that she needed to wear something other than a hospital gown. As soon as she was sure he was gone, she untied the green dress and lifted up the clothes.

The tan skirt was loose and would surely reach her ankles, if not more. She slipped it on over her legs. As she did, she finally realized how thin she was. She couldn't ever remember seeing her own stomach, but she could see it was unnaturally skinny. She could just barely make out the arches of her ribs.

Pushing that thought away, she clipped on the bra that had been found with the rest of her clothes. She slid the pink t-shirt with red hearts over her head, appreciating how well it fit her.

Finally, she slipped on the worn, black (they looked more grey) sneakers and tied them neatly.

"Doctor!" she called. "I'm dressed!"

"Come on out, then," he returned.

She gladly did as she was bid, cautiously wandering toward the door with weak legs. She wasn't quite used to walking just yet.

As she entered the hallway, she realized it wasn't much of a hallway. It was more of a nook. She followed the doctor out into a pristine white room with medicine cabinets lining the walls and a metal table in the middle most likely meant for examinations. There was another door with a sign that said "Staff Only," which she supposed was the actual living area of the building.

Exiting one more door, they came into the waiting room, which also doubled as the entrance room. A large window was in one wall and a couch was placed against it. There were assorted magazines (she spotted one from 1984) on a bookshelf, a wooden desk where the plump, female twin sat idly clicking a beat with her nails, and photos of patients up against the wall. Also, next to the door sat a mirror.

Orihime couldn't help but catch sight of herself. After the bandage, long, messy, reddish-gold fell down her shoulders to reach her mid-back, and bright, warm brown eyes stared back at her. She instantly told herself that she wasn't the most beautiful person that had ever lived – she had a dash of freckles over her cheeks and she seemed, in her entirety, too homely to be a Miss America contestant or anything – but she wouldn't say that she was ugly.

The clothes she wore fit her nicely, but she couldn't deny that she felt a little awkward wearing someone else's clothes.

Laughing gently, Szayel held out a gloved hand to her and inquired, "Shall we, miss?"

She smiled, nodded, and took his hand. After he hooked her arm with his in a gentlemanly fashion, he drew her out of the clinic, down a set of white stairs, and onto the street.

It was so... cute. Szayel lived on the block of shops, all of which he pointed out to her as they walked on the gravel road beside the grass. Right beside him was the general store, run by the oldest man in town, Barragan Luisenbarn (or Barney, as he preferred to be called), and his grandson, Ggio. The doctor explained that Ggio's parents had gone to the city and been in an accident when he was five, so Barney had adopted him.

Across from the clinic was the salon-barbershop owned by a "tiny man," as Szayel put it, named Luppi. "He's thoroughly smug," the pink-haired man explained, "but he does have an eye for hairstyling."

Orihime couldn't help herself. "Did he do your hair?" she inquired innocently.

Szayel chuckled. "His mentor did, originally. He's dead now." Unfazed, he continued, "It started as a dare in high school. Over that time, I grew to like the splash of color in my otherwise scholarly life, so I kept it," he shrugged. Smirking to himself, he remarked, "Another friend of mine, Grimmjow, was in on the same dare. I should warn you, his hair is blue."

"Blue?" she echoed, surprised.

"Blue," he nodded.

Giggling, she shook her head, "This town is weird."

"You don't know the half of it," the doctor replied half-sarcastically. At her inquisitive glance, he began, "For one, we've had the same mayor for the past twenty years."

"Twenty years?" the amber-haired girl scoffed. "He must be really popular!"

"Not more than anyone else," Szayel corrected, "but no one else wants to be mayor, and he's led us well. Besides, it's a small town. We barely feel the effects of government aside from at tax time."

When she didn't say anything more, he continued to point out the shops.

Two doors down was an old-fashioned tailor's shop. Inside the large, clear window, Orihime spotted a quartet of girls scurrying around.

"That's the Harribel sisters," Szayel explained, noticing her stare. "They're all very different in their own ways, but they tend to argue amongst themselves like the fairy godmothers from Sleeping Beauty."

Laughing at his comparison, the young woman asked, "Which one's Flora? Fauna? Marryweather?"

As they passed, the medic mused, "I would believe that Mila-Rose is Flora, Apache is Marryweather, and Sung-Sun would be Fauna."

"What about the fourth sister?" Orihime inquired.

"Ah – Tia Starrk. Yes, what about her, indeed." Pushing up his glasses, he remarked, "I believe that out of all of them, she would most likely be Sleeping Beauty herself. She's a very gentle woman; I doubt I've ever heard her speak over a calm murmur. Her patience astounds at times." With a slight eye-roll, he muttered, "It astounds her husband, Coyote, too."

"Her husband?" the chestnut-eyed girl peeped. "What does he do?"

"He's a farmhand who usually only works during the harvest," Szayel answered honestly. "What utterly confounds me is how he managed to to win _her_ hand. It seemed to happen overnight."

Blinking back at the shop as they moseyed along, Orihime asked softly, "Did you ever like Tia, Doctor?"

Suddenly choking on his own breath in surprise, the pink-haired man stopped in his tracks, coughed, and wheezed, "Pardon?"

"You did, didn't you?" she predicted, not meeting his shocked, gold gaze. "Maybe just a little, but you did." Glancing at him, she smiled gently, "It's not wrong to like someone else later on, Doctor. Crushes happen."

Blinking at her twice, Szayel managed a smirk and shook his head. "You are disturbingly observant, miss," he remarked lightheartedly.

Beaming and shrugging dismissively, she pointed to the shop across the way and asked, "What's that?"

"The bar. Grimmjow runs it, but he's not the greatest bartender," the doctor divulged seriously. "He's rather impatient."

The young woman didn't reply, already looking on at the last few shops in the area. One, she easily recognized as a gas station. The other had a large, faded, yellow star on a sign hung by rusty chains.

"What's that?" Orihime asked, pondering it until he answered.

"That's the sheriff," Szayel replied, "Yammy. He'll be the one looking through the missing persons files to figure out who you are in the next few weeks."

Smiling, she giggled, "That's nice of him!"

Chuckling at her chipper attitude, the doctor continued to guide them around the bend until they reached the chapel. It was boxy and smaller than she had expected. Atop the spire was a bell which was rung from a strong rope tied to a post on the outside of the building. The wooden panels were a sickly white that looked like they hadn't been painted over in decades.

Szayel led her up the steps, and before they reached the door they heard boisterous voices.

_Children._ Orihime smiled as they entered.

Hearing the door, all the children went silent and looked back at them. The teacher at the front of the class smiled, brushing back her platinum hair and inviting warmly, "Doctor Granz! Come in; come in! Bring your friend, too!"

When the teacher stood, the newcomer nearly grinned. The lovely lady was obviously pregnant. Reaching the two, she held out her hand to the amber-haired girl and greeted, "Welcome to the schoolhouse! I'm Nelliel!" Glancing at the others, she gave them an indicative look.

The eldest of the dozen stood up first. The sixteen-year-old's black, choppy hair gave him the look of a rebellious teenager (which he probably was). With a smirk, he stated, "I'm Ggio Luisenbarn."

Nodding warmly, Orihime watched as the next few stood and strived to remember their names. Fourth came a twelve-year-old girl with below-ear-length yellowish-green hair (it was most likely bathroom experiment gone awry, or perhaps it was on purpose) who grinned widely and introduced, "Lilynette Starrk. Nice t'meet you!"

"Nice to meet you, too!" the young woman returned sweetly.

The other children all stood up and introduced themselves, ending with an adorable six-year-old named Nina delSocaccio (← _Dordini's_ _kid XD_).

"I'm Orihime," the amber-haired girl replied when they were all done.

"Is it true that you lost all your memory?" Ggio asked eagerly.

"Ggio!" Nelliel snapped.

"What?" he defended. "I was just wondering!"

As the teacher opened her mouth to scold him, Orihime laughed lightly and rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly, assuring, "It's fine; really." After a pause, she nodded honestly. "Yeah. It's true." Pointing to the bandage, she explained, "I hit my head. The first thing I remember is being pulled out of the river, although it's not at all clear."

Sympathy swept the children's faces.

"The only reason I even know my name is that there was a note in my pocket," she shrugged. She smiled warmly and giggled nervously, "At least I remember other stuff. Otherwise, I'd probably be sitting with you."

This roused a collective laugh from the group. She hadn't meant it to be funny, but she was glad they were smiling now.

Checking her watch, Nelliel announced, "All right everyone, outside for lunch and recess!"

With wild cheers, the children dashed outside within seconds, leaving the church empty aside from the three adults.

"I'm glad the clothes fit you nicely," the oceanic-haired woman began amicably.

Blinking, Orihime started and peeped, "Oh, yes! Thank you, by the way. I hope I'm not impos-"

"Oh, please, dear; I wore those in high school!" the teacher laughed gently, waving it off. "They've been sitting in a box for the past ten years. You can have all of my old clothes, if you like."

Surprised by her sudden generosity, the younger woman scoffed, "Um... r-really? I-I mean..." She couldn't help but feel embarrassed about accepting charity like this, so she dropped off.

"Don't worry about it," Nelliel assured sweetly. A knowing smile graced her lips and she shrugged, "I have nothing to do with them. They don't fit me, and my baby's a boy, so-"

"I told you, Nelliel," Szayel sighed exasperatedly, "you haven't had an ultrasound, so-"

"It's a boy, for god's sake!" the tutor exclaimed suddenly, huffing, "and he kicks harder than his father! I tell you, I can't count the times I've woken up thinking Nnoitra was trying to push me out of bed!"

Blinking, the doctor stood stunned for a moment before he rubbed his forehead, exhaling, "No one wants to know that."

"Who cares?" Nelliel laughed suddenly. "I'm pregnant! I can say whatever I want."

"Just because-"

"Don't try to reason with me," she urged, shaking her head. "Take a trick from Nnoitra and get it through your skull that it _won't work_."

Orihime couldn't help but giggle. They were all like a big family, weren't they?

"All right; fine," Szayel uttered dejectedly. "I give up." Glancing at the grinning young woman, he inquired, "Shall I continue to show you around?"

"Yes, thank you," she returned sweetly.

As they left, Nelliel called, "I'll have Nnoitra drop off those clothes later!"

"Thank you!" Orihime shouted back. "It was nice meeting you!"

As they went out into the warm summer air, he asked her what else she wanted to know.

"Is there somewhere everyone hangs out?" she asked, smiling, "I'd like to meet everyone else."

Szayel shook his head, "Not until later. We can go visit the shops, if you like."

Gladly, she agreed.

The next few hours were spent socializing. Orihime met the hulking sheriff and thanked him profusely for his efforts, took a moment to meet Nina's father who owned the gas station, talked to the sisters and laughed as they argued like old people, woke up Barney from his nap at the counter and chatted for a while before he dozed off again, and was nearly accosted by Luppi until she agreed to let him play with her "absolutely gorgeous hair~~!"

Finally, around six, Szayel took her to the bar to meet Grimmjow. As soon as the blue-haired man spotted her, he cackled, "I see someone went to see the idiot hairstylist next door!"

It was true. Her hair was put up in a high ponytail and curled until she looked like Cindy Brady, but she liked it. It was bouncy and fun!

"Oh," Szayel spoke up suddenly, clearly mocking the both of them as he continued, "I forgot to mention that Grimmjow and Luppi have been feuding since they were two. Something about a rubber ducky."

"Don't make me come over there, germaphobe!" the burly man challenged. "I could snap you like a toothpick!"

Orihime mentally admitted that he probably could. His black, sleeveless shirt blatantly showed off his defined, muscular arms that most likely came from doing farm work in his youth and assisting during harvest time. She blushed as she felt his eyes subtly roam her form.

The doctor merely rolled his eyes, pulling back a chair for the young lady at one of the tables before sitting across from her.

"Whadaya want?" Grimmjow huffed, leaning against the bar.

"The usual," Szayel replied off-handedly.

Snorting mockingly, the blunette snapped, "I know what _you_ want, dorkus. I meant the girl! S'on the house, being that you're a newcomer and all, by the way."

"It's not because you're a newcomer," the doctor smirked teasingly, "it's because you're a woman."

"Shut your face!"

Crossing his arms, the medic merely chuckled.

Nervous, Orihime stuttered, "I... I don't know what I like."

"Oh. Yeah; forgot about that," Grimmjow muttered, genuinely surprised. After a moment, he smirked and headed into the back, exclaiming, "Got it!"

Raising an eyebrow, the young woman remarked, "He's peculiar."

"We all are," Szayel replied jokingly, even though he knew it was completely true. He, unlike many others, had gone to collage. During that time, he began to understand how queer his hometown really was. "You'll get used to it."

Honestly, she hoped she would. As of yet, she greatly enjoyed the oddities of the little town.

A minute later, Grimmjow returned with a large plate, a dark bottle, and two glasses. Making his way to the table, he set down the enormous platter of nachos and the bottle of what seemed to be wine.

As nicely as she could, Orihime smiled, "Thank you, Mr. Grimmjow."

Chuckling, the blue-haired man echoed," 'Mr. Grimmjow?' Well, ain't that cute as the dickens?" he teased.

"Lay off it, Grimmy," Szayel replied boredly, "or Menoli will have your butt when she finds out."

Menacingly, the man glared at the doctor and questioned, "When?"

"It's a small town," the pinkie shrugged dismissively. "I won't be responsible for it."

Confused, the young woman inquired, "Who's Menoli?"

"My fiancé," Grimmjow answered before the medic could. Seeming annoyed yet enamored at the thought of her, he smirked to himself while his brow creased and he uncorked the bottle with a loud _pop!_

"You see," Szayel began thoughtfully, "one moment, they're in the midst of a heated argument, and the next they're... romantically entangled," he uttered lowly as if the statement left a sour taste in his mouth.

"He's just jealous because it's more action than he'll _ever_ see," the blunette taunted, setting down the bottle before heading back to the bar.

Blinking, Orihime remarked honestly, "You're all so weird."

"Cheh"ing, the bartender muttered, "Says the girl who can't remember who the hell she is."

"It was just an observation, Grimmjow," the doctor scolded. "She didn't mean anything by it."

The burly man grumbled a moody, "Meh," before going about his business.

Turning back to the visitor, Szayel assured, "Don't take him seriously. He takes everything personally."

"What's that supposed to mean? !"

"See?" the pinkie smirked knowingly.

Orihime merely giggled lightly before beginning to pick at the mound of nachos.

Within minutes, the townspeople had filed into the bar. First, though, came Nelliel and her tall, lanky husband.

Eagerly, the pregnant woman sat beside the newcomer and smiled. "How are you, Orihime?" she asked sweetly.

"I'm fine, thank you," the young lady replied. After a moment, she inquired hesitantly, "Um... should you be dr-"

With a sudden burst of laughter, Nelliel assured loudly, "Oh, I'm not drinking! Nnoitra is! I'm just here to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid!"

"Hey! I _have_ ears!" the towering man snapped from his seat at the bar.

"And I have hormones!" the schoolteacher replied frankly. Seeming genuinely perplexed, she asked, "What's the point? Are we just listing things that bug us?"

The man's slate-grey eyes rolled as he groaned, "Oh, god, I can't wait for that stupid baby to come out."

"Wait three months," Szayel assured, shrugging, "Give or take a week."

Nnoitra groaned again before downing whatever was in his shot-glass.

After pushing up his spectacles up, the pink-haired man poured a glass of the red liquid for the newcomer and one for himself. "Go on," he bid, "try it."

Hesitantly, Orihime picked up the glass and sipped the alcohol. Suddenly brightening, she remarked, "It's sweet!"

"It's some sort of berry brandy," the doctor explained, nodding toward the wood and chrome door that lead to the back and adding, "Menoli makes it herself."

"Really?" the amber-haired girl peeped, surprised.

"Yes, really," Szayel chuckled. "Though, this is a fairly new batch, so it's more berry than brandy."

"Whatever it is, it's tasty," she giggled, bringing the glass to her lips again.

Next in came Barney and Ggio. Orihime was surprised to see the sixteen year old, but he assured her that he was just making sure his grandpa didn't have a heart attack. The old man grumbled something which made the teen laugh, but they sat down together, nonetheless.

The Harribel sisters came in next, but this time, two more were added to their ranks. The man had brown, wavy hair and a scraggly goatee, and Lilynette held tightly to his hand. Coyote and the girl sat down beside Tia in one of the corner booths, and the preteen beamed at both of her parents the entire time.

About twenty others she didn't recognize entered soon afterwards, including one taller, blonde man with long hair. He approached the table where they were sitting and smirked at the doctor. "Hello, brother," he greeted, smirking.

"Yylfordt," Szayel returned respectfully. Nodding to the confused girl across the table, he introduced, "This is-"

"Orihime," the blond man greeted sociably, holding out his hand, "nice t'meet you!"

"Nice to meet you, too," Orihime replied sweetly as she returned his handshake. When her hand was released, she asked inquisitively, "You two are brothers?"

"Yes," the pinkie answered frankly.

"I'm the older one," Yylfordt added, smirking.

"Must you bring that up _every_ time?" Szayel questioned, annoyed.

"Yes." With that, the blond man stalked off towards the bar.

Orihime continued to sip the tasty brandy until a lightheadedness worked its way into her system. She watched the people in silence as they drank, talked, and laughed. Suddenly, a thought popped into her head and she asked, "Hey... what's that Ulquiorra guy like?"

Grimmjow laughed. "Ulquiorra? Pain in the ass is what he is!" he joked.

"Grimmjow!" Nelliel snapped suddenly. Placing a hand on her stomach, she pouted, "Not in front of the baby!"

"See what I have to live with?" Nnoitra muttered as he traced the rim of his glass.

Although the teacher glared at him, she said nothing. "Anyways," she smiled, "Ulquiorra's not that bad. He's just a little... anti-social."

Standing, Ggio made his way to the visitor's table, sat down, and remarked, "The guy only comes in on Sundays unless there's an emergency, which hasn't happened for years until you came along Saturday night."

Szayel spoke up next. "You see, he has a sort of routine he never deviates from," he explained. "Like clockwork, every single Sunday he comes in at precisely eight in the morning, attends church, has lunch with someone – usually Nnoitra, Grimmjow, Coyote, or myself – and then proceeds to procure the things he needs for the next week."

"Grandpa packs a box every Saturday for him," the dark-haired teen interjected. "He just comes, picks it up, forks over the cash, and skedaddles."

"Yes – he's very precise," the doctor continued. "Anyhow, he'll go about his errands and then he'll have supper with the mayor-"

"The mayor?" Orihime peeped, surprised. "Why the mayor?"

Laughing, Nelliel patted her hand and assured, "Oh, sweetie, everyone's invited! The mayor just holds one of those community banquets every week, but Ulquiorra and Reverend Tousen are the only ones who ever come. The only reason Ulquiorra goes is because it's free food," she shrugged.

"Then," Szayel went on patiently, "he goes to the city meeting. Until last night he had very little to say."

"Why?" the amber-haired girl questioned. Imagination running wild, she inquired, "Because he was the one who fished me out of the river and he wanted me to stay with him or something?"

Everyone paused. Looking rather regretful that he hadn't told her, the pink-haired man hemmed, "He wasn't exactly... excited about it, no."

"He's just the only person who lives alone and has extra room in the entire town," the pregnant woman offered. "He..." The pale man's words echoed in the teacher's head. _ "I already took in one stray; I don't need another."_ "Grimmjow."

"Huh?" the man at the bar asked disinterestedly.

Huffing, Nelliel muttered, "You're right. He is an ass."

Concerned, Orihime squeaked, "Why?"

"He's really not that horrible!" Szayel urged sincerely. "He's... he just appreciates his privacy, you see," he explained awkwardly. "He just wasn't enthusiastic when he was urged to take you in. The only person, or thing, really, that he ever sees outside of Sundays is Marcy, and he's grown accustomed to that."

The young woman thought for a moment before asking, "How did he find Marcy?"

Half-smiles appeared on everyone's faces. The bittersweet tale ran through their minds before, surprisingly, Nnoitra began.

"He was about eighteen," the tall man started, turning around on his barstool. Once he was sure he had their attention, he continued, "Not long after... stuff happened, he was wandering out in the woods when the little black dog – puppy, then – came out of the brush. Nearly bit his hand off when he tried to touch it," he snorted.

"As I told you," Szayel added, "Marcy had been mistreated. Apparently, she had run away and found her way here."

Slightly annoyed, Nnoitra glared at the doctor before he went on, "Anywho, Ulquiorra happened to have his lunch with him, and when the little puke tried to bite him, he started leaving pieces of it behind him and leading her back to that big-ass house of his."

"Once he had her inside, he didn't let her out," Nelliel continued, smiling sweetly at her husband as she took over. "It took an entire month, during which he came in every Sunday and bought more meat than one person could eat in a week, which is what tipped us off that something was going on," she smirked meaningfully. "Grimmjow asked him, and Ulquiorra very honestly replied-"

" 'None of your damn beeswax,' " the blunette quoted, chuckling. "I got it out of him eventually, though. For the most part, he just told me that he had found a dog and was trying to tame it."

"Thank you," the pregnant woman expressed genuinely. Turning back to the awed girl, she went on, "Eventually, Marcy didn't just take the meat – she started licking his fingers, too. When she finally let him pet her, he opened the door and offered to let her leave, but she didn't. He went to the city, bought her a collar, and they've been together ever since."

A warm, melted feeling in her chest, Orihime cooed softly, "Oh my gosh~! That's so cute! How could anyone who cares so much about animals be as mean as you guys say?"

"He just is," Grimmjow shrugged. "Besides, as he says it, 'Dogs know when to shut up, people don't.' "

Nelliel sighed. "He has his issues to work through," she explained quietly, seeming almost sad. "He'll just have to get used to not living alone."

"What kind of issues?" Orihime inquired, concerned.

"Personal, emotional ones," Szayel assured. "His quirks are just as odd as ours, but I assure you, he's perfectly harmless."

"Unless you're from the government," Nnoitra joked, smirking. "He can't stand politics. With the mayor, it's different, 'cause the mayor's just the mayor and he doesn't do anything stupid. Once, Ulquiorra skipped out on his taxes for a year, and the IRS came to his house."

Grimmjow outright laughed. "The guy loaded up his shotgun and made them leave just because they wouldn't shut up 'bout figures and crap like that!" he cackled. Shaking his head, he added, "Of course, he payed the 'damn taxes' and a fine for pointing the gun at them afterwards just so they wouldn't bug him, but he was famous 'round here for that shotgun incident for at least three months."

"He sounds... fun," Orihime murmured hesitantly. Uncertain, she sighed and took another sip of the sweet brandy. Turning to the pink-haired man, she asked, "What kind of quirks does he have?"

Szayel thought before offering, "Well, though this is rather normal, he tends to smoke rather conservatively." At her inquiring expression, he shook his head and assured, "Oddly enough, he hates the smell, so he never does it inside. In fact, he smokes so little – most likely only one or two cigarettes a day – that I personally believe he could quit any time he wanted to. He just doesn't want to," he added with a sigh.

"He has some sort of skin condition that makes him super-pale," Ggio went on. "It's super-weird."

"Ggio!" Barney barked. "Be nice!"

The teen rolled his eyes. "Yes, Grandpa."

"He tends to be working all day from six in the morning to near five in the evening," Szayel continued. "He's very dedicated. As far as I know, he does nothing but farm and hunt during the correct seasons."

"That explains the shotgun," she nodded in understanding. Honestly, she had been a little concerned, what with almost shooting the IRS and all...

"He's a very interesting person," the medic explained. Smiling, he offered, "I think you'll like each other. He needs a little brightness in his life."

Orihime blushed and smiled down at her lap. The compliment didn't pass her by, and it made her giddy, even though it was just small.

"My dear," Szayel assured as he reached across the table and patted her hand warmly, "you have no reason to be concerned. Ulquiorra may be blunt at times, but he's also been a faithful friend for all of the time anyone one of us have known him."

No one contradicted the statement. Grimmjow muttered a little, but he eventually relented.

Comforted, Orihime smiled. "When do you think I'll be moving there?" she asked.

"Oh, tomorrow!" the pink-haired man grinned suddenly. "Your stitches are holding marvelously!" At her surprised look, he inquired, "Is that all right?"

Nodding, the amber-haired girl shrugged, "I'm just a little nervous."

"Don't be," Nelliel cooed, maternally petting her reddish-gold head. "Ulquiorra's incredible. Once you get used to his caustic-ness, you'll find out he's not so bad."

"But you said he was an a-"

Bursting out laughing, the platinum-haired woman shook her head and cackled, "Oh, honey – I'm six months pregnant! I say whatever pops into my head!" At the slightest snicker from the bar, she glared at her husband and snapped, "Quit laughing at me!"

"You're hearing things," Nnoitra snorted, even though he had laughed (a little).

As they continued to argue, Szayel turned to the amber-haired girl and smiled, "They're not usually like this. During grade school, they quite despised each other until they realized that their hatred was just a defense from their mad attraction to each other. Now, they're usually quite amicable to one another, but I'm sure she's been trying him lately," he explained before sitting back to watch the show.

"You are such a jerk!"

"It was _funny_! You expect me not t'laugh, huh?"

"But you laughed at me!" the woman burst, pouting.

"Not _at_ you! I laughed at what you said because it was _funny_!" the towering man snapped. Turning on his barstool, he looked her fearlessly in the eye and huffed, "Quit bein' so paranoid!"

Blushing slightly, Nelliel sighed, "All right. I'm sorry."

"You're _what_? !" It was more than obvious that he couldn't believe his ears.

"I'm sorry," she repeated sincerely. "You're right."

Still stunned, Nnoitra slowly turned back to the counter, murmuring, "O~okay, then."

Grinning and literally glowing, the teacher leaned forward and whispered, "Isn't he cute?"

"What did I tell you?" Szayel smirked. "Completely normal couple with a hormonal, pregnant woman."

"Darn straight," Nelliel nodded firmly.

Orihime simply sat there, endlessly amused. If only the rest of the world were as open and hilarious as they were... On second thought, perhaps everyone was just as amazing as these people and she just didn't remember. However, being that she considered them a little off, she assumed that not everyone was like them. Of course, once she found out who she was, she would return to the world and see for herself.

After sufficient socialization, the doctor and patient returned to the clinic. There was a stack of boxes by the door full of clothes that Nnoitra had undoubtedly dropped off.

While Lumina and Verona carried the boxes inside, Szayel removed her bandage. Nodding approvingly, he remarked, "You're healing very well. The skin is already growing together. You're going to have a very visible scar, though," he added.

"That's okay," Orihime smiled. After a moment, she expressed genuinely, "Thank you. For everything."

Smiling pleasantly, the medic returned, "It was an honor and a pleasure to have met you. When you leave, I'll sorely miss you," he admitted, although he didn't at all sound less cheery.

Sighing, the young woman agreed, "I'll miss you, too. Already, I know I'll miss everyone. I..." She paused before whispering, "I almost hope we don't find out who I am."

"Don't hold to that hope," the pink-haired man advised seriously. Looking her in the eye, he stated, "I'm afraid it's a rather empty, unlikely hope."

Unfazed, the autumn-eyed girl merely giggled. "Maybe," she shrugged. Still smiling, she began, "I guess I should get some sleep, considering I'm technically moving tomorrow."

"Indeed," Szayel nodded. As she headed towards her room, he waved and bid warmly, "Good night, Orihime!"

"Good night," Orihime smiled back.

She had said she was going to bed, but instead, she lay awake for nearly two hours. A horrible sense of nothingness seemed to surround her.

_I don't know who I am_. Again and again, that familiar thought ran through her mind. Was someone missing her? Was anyone looking for her? If so, who was it? Who were her friends, who was her family, who were her coworkers?

She fell asleep crying for someone she couldn't remember.

* * *

**I know, sad ending, but still! **

**Next chapter we get to meet my new Ulquiorra! MY GOSH I LOVE HIM SO MUCH! ****To quote Larry the Cucumber, "I laughed, I cried; it moved me, Bob!"**

**He is really amazing. Not I'M amazing - note that I'm not bragging - but I venerate Kubo for making such a versatile character. I love Ulquiorra like that.**

**Anywho!**

**Love, Bunny-chan**


	3. Farmer from the North Pole

**'Ello again! Still on vacation. OH YEAH! *Vector dance***

**Thanks to InfinitySign, Guest(1), ulquihime7980, BeccaRomano, Guest(2), Saiyuri Haruno, and Guest(3) for reviewing!**

**Thanks to those who subscribed/favorited, too! :D**

**You meet Ulquiorra. I love him so much.**

**Okaydone.**

* * *

Orihime spent the next day at the schoolhouse. She and Nelliel were becoming fast friends, as were the children and her. They loved her childish attitude, and the pregnant teacher found it helpful to have an assistant.

During lunch hour, the amber-haired woman went outside to play soccer with the children and on the empty street. As she discovered was usual, Lilynette and Ggio were the captains.

"I want Orihime on my team!" Lilynette declared firmly, crossing her arms.

"It's not your turn, Lil," Ggio reminded snidely. "She's on my team."

"Who says it's not my turn?" the girl questioned.

"Me!" the elder snapped.

"It's the first turn! Ladies first!"

"Lil, you're anything but a lady!"

"You take that back or I swear you'll go home with a bloody nose, buddy!" the preteen threatened vehemently.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Orihime intervened, waving her arms wildly. Smiling, she offered, "How about I keep score instead?"

Grudgingly, they accepted her suggestion. She watched and kept score, bandaging those whose knees were scraped, and applauding whenever a goal was scored on either side.

Three hours later, after the children had filed out, Nelliel thanked her. "It's been wonderful having you here today," she smiled.

"Oh, thanks! It was fun!" the amber-haired woman giggled.

Laughing softly, the teacher invited, "You're free to come back any time. I'd love to have you as an assistant."

Honored, Orihime nodded eagerly. "I'd love to! I..." Pausing, her smile faded. "I mean, if I can," she shrugged.

"I'm sure Ulquiorra will let you use his pickup truck whenever you need to, honey. If you can drive, that is."

After a pause, the young woman murmured, "I think I can."

"Well, great then!" Nel smiled. The oceanic-haired woman assured gently, "He may be a little reluctant, but I know he'll come around. After all," she complimented with a bright grin, "you're impossible not to like."

Blushing, the young woman peeped, "Really?"

Nelliel nodded. "Even Nnoitra likes you! We were talking about it last night, and he told me that he thought you were really interesting and nice!" she recalled.

She was embellishing a little – for one, she had asked him what he thought of the newcomer, and for another, he had merely shrugged and said, "Eh – she's fine." Nonetheless, she knew he thought that the young woman was the most interesting thing that had happened in that town since the general store started selling popsicles.

Giggling, Orihime told the teacher to thank her husband for his kind words. "I should get back to the clinic," she explained. "Szayel said he would take me up to the farm around five."

"Well, then – go on!" Nelliel bid warmly. "I'll see you later!" she waved.

As the young woman walked back to the clinic, she couldn't help but feel a certain sense of elation. She was making friends. It had been barely three days, and already she had a _friend_. Laughing to herself, she twirled lightly on her toes and smiled.

The car ride up to the farm took about ten minutes. Fields full of corn and wheat and other things she didn't recognize lined up along the road, and she stared in silent admiration as the doctor drove.

Finally, they came to the top of a hill. A circular area of barely grassed ground met them, leading to a large red barn and a white, Victorian-style house. Stopping the car, Szayel climbed out and headed to get the her clothing out of the trunk.

Meanwhile, Orihime stepped out and looked around. As she inhaled, she could feel the freshness and the life surrounding the area. She realized why the reclusive man would want it to himself.

A sharp bark interrupted her peaceful thoughts. Whipping around, she spotted the long-haired, black dog with her ears laid back and black eyes glinting dangerously. Teeth bared, the animal barked again, this time even more frighteningly.

"Ah, Marcy – yes," the doctor sighed, closing the trunk door. "She's... I would say she's harmless, but she's not."

As the pink-haired man rounded the car, the dog barked even louder. Growling, Marcy glared at them, practically daring them to approach and _die_.

A moment later, a pale, black-haired man appeared in the doorway, holding a rather intimidating shotgun and prepared to shoot. At Orihime's shrill scream, he exhaled and lowered the gun. "Oh. It's you," he remarked shortly.

"Who were you expecting?" Szayel laughed warmly, unfazed by the fact that the young woman was hiding behind him.

"Grimmjow."

"Oh? Did you invite him?"

"No," Ulquiorra answered coldly as he set the gun against the outside wall, "but he has an annoying tendency to visit me when I don't want him to." He stepped out onto the patio and turned to the growling dog. "It's fine, Marcy."

Ears still flattened angrily against her head, the animal sat down and went quiet.

Turning to the visitors again, he noticed that the young woman still hadn't come out of hiding. Sighing, he uttered, "Miss, I have put the gun away."

Carefully, Orihime stepped out. Embarrassed and blushing, she giggled nervously, "I... um... hi." Mentally, she smacked herself. _Yeah, real smooth._

The pale man seemed completely unamused. Unceremoniously, he instructed, "If you're going to come in, come in." Without another word, he grabbed the shotgun and headed back inside, beckoning his pet with a snap of his fingers.

With one last glare at the pink-haired doctor, Marcy slinked back inside.

Lolling her head curiously, the young woman remarked, "You're right. He is just as weird as the rest of you."

"Yes. Yes, he is," Szayel nodded, chivalrously picking up her heavy bag before they headed towards the house.

The steps creaked softly as she stepped onto the whitewashed patio. It looked like something out of an old western movie – a rocking chair sat on one side of a wicker coffee table while a wicker couch sat on the other, the windows were older and had small white spots on them from past winter, the roof was covered with old, grey shingles, and spots of wood showed along the siding. It almost looked as if there was going to be a shootout any moment. At the thought, she giggled to herself.

Cautiously, Orihime stepped inside the open door and looked around. For the most part, it was just a short, small hallway with a coat rack sporting only one coat next to the door, a rug with a pair of worn tennis shoes and muddy boots sitting upon it, and two passages leading to either side. However, right in front of her was a staircase leading up to the dim second floor.

Before she could step into either room on the sides, her host called from... somewhere, "Put your shoes on the rug and bring your bag upstairs. Your room is at the end of the hallway to the left."

Smiling, Szayel offered, "I'll do it. You look around – if he minds, he'll say something."

Well... that was a comforting thought. Reluctantly, Orihime wandered into what she presumed to be a living room. An old-looking, blue, flowery couch sat in the middle of the room. A window with pale white curtains rested behind it, and a boxy television sat across from the seat. There was also a lonely bookshelf in the corner. The wallpaper was horrendous – pale yellow with faded chickens on it – but somehow, it added to the adorable quaintness of the house.

Another bark caught her ear. Shrieking, the amber-haired girl stumbled back as the dog came from a back room. Suddenly, she found herself backed against the wall, with the shaggy, black creature approaching menacingly.

Black eyes glared at her, stopping not even a foot in front of her. Marcy growled lowly as she sniffed the frightened young woman suspiciously. Slowly, the growling died down, but the mutt continued to smell her almost _curiously_.

Encouraged by the dog's calming manner, Orihime reached out to touch her.

"I would stay away from her, if I was you," the deep, quiet voice warned. "She'll most likely kill you."

Happy at the sound of his voice, Marcy gladly padded toward her master and sat down supportively beside him.

Glancing at him, the newcomer froze. She hadn't noticed it before, but now that she had, she was stunned and amazed. His eyes... they were the most _fantastic _shade of green. They weren't even green – they were _emerald_. They were far too beautiful to be actual human eyes. She knew some people used colored contacts, but he was most definitely not the vain type. His eyes were _actually_ that color! It was incredible!

Realizing that he was waiting for her to say something, she merely nodded obediently.

In that moment, Szayel appeared behind the pale man in the entryway. "Well! That's done," he smirked.

Unsurprised, Ulquiorra glanced behind him and ignored his disgruntled pet. "Now what?" he questioned. "I suppose there's some sort of idiotic etiquette I have to follow."

"I would personally suggest setting boundaries," the doctor continued, smiling warmly. "Rules and such – just to avoid confusion and random mishaps and whatnot."

"I don't suppose I can make her stay in her room, can I?" the dark-haired man drawled.

"Ah!" the pinkie scolded and held up a warning finger. "My dear friend, it's very rude to talk about someone in the third person when they're standing ten feet away from you," he reminded, laughing. Suddenly turning blunt, he shook his head, "And no, my friend, you cannot keep dear Orihime here in her room. She's a person, not a canary."

"Hm." Looking towards the patiently waiting girl, the emerald-eyed man sighed, "Fine. Boundaries it is."

"Excellent!" Szayel smiled at the young woman, assuring, "Dear, if you should need me, I'm only down the hill and I'm sure that Ulquiorra has my number somewhere. If I am required, you need only send the word! Have fun!" he grinned, departing before either could object.

Awkwardly, Orihime glanced out the window and blushed. Clasping her hands in front of her, she peeked at him bashfully as he calmly sat down on the couch.

Arms and legs crossed, he waited a moment, expecting her to speak. When she did not, he exhaled, "Well."

"Yeah," she nodded, "well." After a moment, she twirled and turned to him, asking curiously, "What about you? I-I mean, what do you do, y'know, usually?"

"I work," Ulquiorra uttered flatly. "Aside from that, I read. My life, compared to some, is extremely dull," he explained.

Shrugging, she mused, "I dunno. If you like it, it can't exactly be boring."

Immediately, he surmised that she was an odd one. Not bothering to respond, he stood and began, "For the duration of your stay, as Szayel suggested, I agree that there would be guidelines."

"Lay 'em on me!" Orihime smiled sweetly, opening her arms invitingly.

It took a moment. He hadn't exactly thought about it before. After a few seconds, he shoved his hands in his pockets and started, "I am absent every day from six in the morning to approximately five in the afternoon. During this time, you are free to go into town, sit in the house and do whatever it is women do, or roam the woods."

Perplexed, she asked, "What if I get lost?"

"I will _not_ come looking. It is your responsibility _not_ to get lost," he expressed frankly. Watching her surprised expression, he continued caustically, "Furthermore, if you are to misplace or break_anything_ in my house or of my possession, there will be _dire _consequences."

Autumn eyes widening, she shrunk back and murmured almost fearfully, "What kind of consequences?"

It only took a moment of watching her scared, vulnerable expression for him to have his answer.

"I will force you to butcher a rabbit."

Horrified and shocked, Orihime trembled before pouting, "You'd make me kill a bunny?" How could he... who would want to kill an adorable bunny rabbit? ! The terrifying image of a dead bunny with a butcher's knife coming out of its stomach invaded her mind and she released another sad squeak.

Rather pleased with his decision, Ulquiorra replied, "Yes."

After another moment, the amber-haired woman held back a stunned sob and whimpered, "Your punishments are cruel and unusual!"

"Thank you." When her bottom lip continued to quiver, he nearly rolled his eyes and ordered, "Stop that. _Now_."

It took a few seconds, but she obeyed. Fidgeting awkwardly, she glanced down at her toes.

Satisfied with her silence, he continued, "Furthermore, there are certain areas of the house that are restricted. That hallway-" he pointed to the adjacent door that Marcy had emerged from "- leads to the cellar. You are not to go down there when I am not home."

"Why?" Orihime inquired curiously.

Ulquiorra didn't even blink before replying, "Because the door closes unexpectedly, and every time you go down there, you must remember to put the doorstop in place or you will die in cold darkness. Also," he added, "because you are a woman, you will not remember."

Mildly offended, the guest crossed her arms and echoed, "Because I'm a woman?"

"Women are forgetful. It's a scientific fact," he countered, adamant. Before she could continue to argue with him, he went on, "The rooms on the right side of the upstairs hallway are also forbidden."

"Why?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Because the door at the end of the right-side hall is mine, and the other is simply off-limits," Ulquiorra explained shortly. Nodding towards the entry hall, he went on, "The bathroom is right at the top of the stairs. You will not, under any circumstances, make it smell like any of the following," he stressed. "Flowers, fruit, herbs, or candy scented washes, perfumes, shampoos, conditioners, or whatever it is women use are _not_ to be used in my house. Am I fully understood?"

Eagerly, Orihime nodded.

"For the time being, I have but one more rule to put down," he went on. Shifting his hands in his pockets, he stated, "If you use the kitchen, you are to clean it to the level of pristine that it is now. Yes?"

"I can do that," she assured, smiling blithely.

_Oh, joy_. Sighing and closing his eyes, he affirmed, "Good. You may familiarize yourself with your room or the yard while I make supper," he instructed.

Grinning, the amber-haired girl offered, "Can I help-"

"No." With that, he moved past her into room on the other side of the hall, which the visitor peeked into and discovered was the kitchen. She was about to start up the stairs when he called out, "Marcy! Make sure she doesn't do anything foolish!"

The shaggy mammal barked obediently in response, wagging her tail happily.

Orihime's first impressions of him raced through her head as she stood silently for a moment.

When the others had said he was blunt, they hadn't been kidding or exaggerating. Talking to him was like taking a club to the head.

If life was a game, then his game was solitaire.

Recalling a popular saying, she thought that the eyes were the window to the soul. His windows were tinted black and painted over and then coated with steel. They were shiny, but it was hard to tell what was inside.

All she got from him was annoyance with her very existence.

He was good at hiding his emotions.

He seemed like the kind of guy who would drink strong, black coffee. She wondered if he even _had_ sugar to put in _anything_. At all.

Finally, her last observation displeased her greatly.

He was _sexist_. All those references to "whatever women do," and "women are forgetful," and other stuff wasn't doing much for his case. Sure, maybe, he had a reason for not liking women, but that was no _good_ reason to take it out on her!

Nonetheless, he was giving her a place to stay. She couldn't help but give him a few points for that one.

Deciding to just brush off his causticity, Orihime smiled to herself and headed up the stairway. To her surprise, the black dog followed her. As they reached the top of the stairs, the animal sat down and guarded the right side of the hall.

Half amused and half annoyed, the amber-haired woman made her way to the end of the hall and opened the door. Her mouth dropped at the _cuteness_ of her room. The wall was a periwinkle hue with white lilies meticulously painted atop it, the bed was antique with a beautiful, thick quilt atop a crocheted blanket and a thinner, white sheet, and the ceiling was covered in paintings of butterflies. There was a large window across from the foot of the bed and an old, white dresser sat in a corner.

The tan, carpeted floor creaked as she walked into the room. Amazed, she sat down on the bed and looked around in awe. She liked it. She liked it _much_.

After a moment, she went and opened the top dresser drawer. Carefully, she transferred her folded clothes into it, humming quietly. When she reached the fourth and final drawer, she knelt down and pulled it open.

Inside rested the most beautiful little box she had ever seen. It was a creamy-white with light-blue gems all along the edges and a larger, darker blue jewel atop the cover. Tiny, purple irises were painted on the sides, too.

Cautiously, Orihime set the ivory box on top of the dresser. Eyes wide and inquisitive, she opened it slowly. A gentle, quiet, sweet melody emanated from the tiny box. Peeking inside, she was surprised to find it empty aside from a lining of forest-green velvet. Nonetheless, it was a very pretty box.

Closing it and setting it carefully to the back of the dresser, she continued transporting the clothes from her bag. She smiled at every cute shirt and flowery skirt, thinking how nice it was of Nelliel to give them to her.

When Orihime finished, she stood and turned around. She screamed.

Marcy cocked her head at the human as if she were wondering what could possibly possess the woman to make such a noise. The dog merely sat in the middle of the floor, batting her tail happily against the carpet. Black eyes searching, she made a rather inquisitive sound at the back of her throat and her pointy ears twitched.

After the amber-haired girl stopped hyperventilating, she blinked her big brown eyes twice. The demon-dog didn't seem so demon-like, did she? Curious, the young woman took a step forward.

Marcy's ears flattened suspiciously, but her tail continued to wag blissfully.

Kneeling, Orihime shuffled a little bit towards the dog, thinking that the lower stance would keep the dog from feeling threatened.

The human had been right. Again, Marcy's ears perked and the beating of her tail sped up.

Fascinated by the fury creature's reaction, the guest giggled lightly. "You're not so bad, are you, Marcy?" she asked brightly as she sat back on her heels.

At the sound of her name, the jet-black canine barked, but not in a threatening way.

Laughing, Orihime scooted a little bit closer. "Everyone in town thinks you're some sort of demon. What do you say to that, Marcy?"

She let out another responsive bark.

"You're right. I don't think you are, either," the young woman nodded. After a moment, she carefully reached out her fingertips. Aiming for the spot behind the dog's pointy ears, she moved slowly.

Long before her fingers touched, Marcy pulled back her top lip in a sneer and growled. Her ears flattened, her tail stopped wagging, and her hair raised as she stood on her midnight-black paws, snarling. Her black eyes flashed with a morbid warning.

Frightened, Orihime instantly pulled back. This time, the dog didn't relax. Instead, she backed away, keeping her dark eyes trained on the human until she had rounded the bed. With that, she went back to guarding the right side of the hall.

_Okay,_ the autumn-eyed girl thought, shaken, _maybe she is a demon-dog_. She never could've imagined such a murderous look in the eyes of anything – human or animal.

The young lady got to her feet. Shuddering, she hugged herself and sat on the bed. "Well, that was a horrifying experience," she mumbled.

Laying back on the bed, she stared up at the ceiling. Each butterfly was a different color or a different hue, and each one had a different pattern. It was almost as if someone had taken every color ever and a butterfly book and meticulously recreated each one on the white ceiling. _It must have taken days_, she figured, _or even months! _It was a feat if she had ever seen one.

On second thought, even if she had seen such a feat, she wouldn't know. Immediately, she forced that thought away and sat up. She didn't want to think about it. She didn't want to remember that she couldn't remember.

A shrill whistle caused her to scream. Annoyance tinting his tone, Ulquiorra called, "Supper is done! Come down before I give it to Marcy!"

"Coming!" she squeaked, jumping off the bed, racing out into the hallway, and hurrying down the stairs. Taking the sharp turn into the kitchen, she almost ran into her host and squealed.

Exasperated, the pale man sighed, "If you are going to be staying here, you will have to stop making that noise." Holding out a bowl to her, he offered, "Here."

Taking the food, she glanced down at the hearty stew before glancing back up at him in absolutely awe.

Clearly understanding, he snorted softly, "I am not some wimpy, soft, city-born college boy. I know how to cook more than packaged food."

Nodding, Orihime merely accepted it and left it at that. As he headed back into the kitchen where she spotted an older, oak table and matching chairs, she glanced longingly at the door. After a moment, she asked, "Can I eat outside?"

"As long as you don't leave your dishes all over the place, I don't give a damn where you eat," Ulquiorra answered flatly and bluntly, not even looking her way as he spoke.

Surprised by his unexpected swear, the young woman paused before putting on her shoes, opening the door, and stepping outside. She closed the door behind her and looked out at the farmyard, breathing deeply of the clean air. Exhaling shortly, she sat on the wicker couch and smiled at the blue, flowery cushions. They seemed appropriate for the setting, and she slid her hand over the old, soft fabric appreciatively.

As Orihime began to eat, she finally noticed how beautiful this place was. It was like something out of a professional painting – it was surreal and heavenly, even. An overwhelming sense of peace came with looking out into the bright green trees and at the wavering grass and at the ancient, but sturdy barn. From this angle, she also noticed a tool shed and another, newer than the barn (but still old), larger than the tool shed little building. It had two doors, which she found peculiar.

When she finished the stew (which was delicious – she decided to tell him so whether he cared or not), she decided to go look around. That weird, two-doored shed was the first on her list.

As she approached, she heard a weird noise she had never heard before. Nonetheless, she somehow knew what it was and carefully opened the left door, surprised to find the adjacent room empty. Shelves were settled along the walls, each one covered in hay. About three feet up, from one wall to another, was a long, wooden plank.

Suddenly, she noticed another, smaller door. It was small – about a square foot. Closing the person-door, she rounded the building to find an oddly large, grassy area filled with cackling chickens.

With beady eyes, the poultry looked her way, all squawking as they toddled toward her. Assuming she had brought them food, they demanded of her in their chicken-y language to give it to them.

In the mass of feathers, she counted at least ten. Each chicken was, surprisingly, a different color or pattern – one was grey speckled white, another was black with darts of white, one was yellow, another was a reddish-gold, one was white, one was pure black with an aqua tint to its wing feathers, and so on. They were all very excited, very cute, and very loud.

Laughing and softly apologizing, "Sorry, chickies, but I don't have anything to give you!" Orihime went back around to the front and opened the other door.

Instantly, she squealed with delight and rushed in, looking around at the maze of hutches. To her surprise, each one was connected to the next by a hole which she saw could be blocked and unblocked at their owner's leisure, and in each one, at least one bunny rabbit sat fat and content.

"Oh my goodness!" the young woman exclaimed, giddy. "You're all so cute!" Randomly picking a hutch, she unlocked the slide lock and carefully and delicately reached inside, taking hold of the fluffy brown creature inside.

The rabbit squirmed a little, but stopped protesting when it was cradled safely in her arms, scratched behind the ears, and cooed to softly.

Just as she was losing herself in the bliss of fluffiness, she recalled the farmer's threat and went as pale as he was. Unable to keep her bottom lip from quivering, she tightened her grip on the hare and mumbled adamantly into the fur, "No one's gonna hurt you, cutesie-wootsie bunny wabbit! You're so cute, yes you are! No one would ever want to eat you – no, no, no!"

Completely oblivious and completely not understanding a word she said, the rabbit's nose twitched.

After petting the long, soft ears for a few more minutes, she set the rabbit back into the hutch and locked it securely. Bidding a warm goodbye to the others, she stepped outside again.

_Only one more place to go – the barn_, Orihime decided. It was a rather large barn, she realized, which made the possibility of many animals more realistic.

Eagerly, she pulled open the heavy barn door and slipped inside, closing it behind her. Lights had been strung from the rafters, and she noticed that they were plugged in to a timer right beside the door. As she looked around, she spotted five blotchy cows, a group of sleeping pigs, and three grey goats and a black goat. As she wandered further and further inside, she realized that she hadn't seen the animal she was most expecting.

He was a farmer, wasn't he? Didn't all farmers have horses? Or, at least, a horse?

As she reached the back end of the barn, she noticed a stall for a horse, but it was vacant. It looked as if it had been empty for a long time.

Disappointed, Orihime turned around. Suddenly faced with gem-like emerald eyes, she gasped shrilly and stumbled back. "What-where... you scared me!" she breathed, putting her hand on her fast-beating heart.

Unamused, Ulquiorra blinked once, hands stuffed in his pockets.

Regaining her wits, the amber-haired woman hesitantly asked, "Why don't you have a horse? Is it just outside or-"

"I have no need for it," he interrupted sharply.

Confused, but unfazed, the young lady lolled her head and inquired, "But don't you need one for farm work and stuff?"

"_Annoyed_" could not compose his utter intolerance of the woman's ignorance. "I am not amish, girl," the pale man retorted coldly. "Believe it or not, just because we are not sophisticated city folk doesn't mean we don't appreciate modern conveniences."

It took her a moment to translate what he had said. Eventually, she blushed madly and mumbled, "Oh. Sorry."

They stood there for a long, silent moment. To her, it was awkward. To him, it was blissful.

Finally, Orihime smiled sweetly and giggled nervously, "Well, I... um, I guess I'll go inside, then." At a thought, she hurriedly promised, "I'll take in my dishes-"

"Don't bother. I already did," Ulquiorra interrupted coldly, again, before turning on his heel and stalking away.

The young woman stood there, stunned, for a long moment. Finally, her dropped jaw closed and she followed him.

When she got back into the house, she carefully put her tennis shoes on the rug and glanced at the wall clock in the living room. It wasn't even seven yet. Sighing, she peeked into the kitchen, unsurprised to not see him there.

"Well, now what am I supposed to do?" she thought aloud. When she received no response, she wandered into the living room.

Spotting the bookshelf, Orihime began to scan the spines of the books. All of them seemed to be about philosophy or history or something really super heavy. She would have to borrow some books from someone in town. However, for now, she picked up a book of Shakespearean plays and seated herself on the couch.

Halfway through _Romeo and Juliet, _she decided it was too nice outside to be sitting inside. Marking her place in the book with her finger, she headed to the porch.

For the fifth time that day, he surprised her. This time, though, he was merely sitting idly in the rocking chair and smoking a cigarette (instead of holding a shotgun, warning her about the demon dog, yelling for her, or popping out of nowhere like a freaky ninja). He barely even glanced at her before exhaling a thick stream of grey smoke.

Nervous and awkward, Orihime sat on the wicker couch. Pulling her knees up, she propped the book up and continued reading. Behind the book's protective pages, she blushed.

After a long time, during which the only mentionable sounds were his deep, steady inhales and exhales and the flipping of her pages, the silence was broken.

"Does it bother you?" Ulquiorra asked almost conversationally (almost).

"No," she lied. The smoke was starting to get to her, but as he had said, it was _his_ house.

"I don't particularly enjoy the smell, either," he replied, regardless to her fib even as he inhaled and exhaled again.

Confused, the young woman inquired, "Then why do it?"

His emerald eyes looked off for a moment before he answered, "One becomes accustomed to it." Cryptically, he left it at that.

Orihime smiled to herself, continuing to read and glancing up every once and a while to stare at the setting sun. As gold and red splayed across the sky, she remarked, "It's really pretty."

"Hm?"

"This place," she clarified. Sighing contently, she giggled brightly, "It's so peaceful."

"Hm. It is." Scuffing the used-up smoke beneath his foot and kicking it off the porch, he pulled another from his pocket and lit it with a match he struck against the side of the chair.

She resisted the urge to ask how many of those he actually smoked in a day, and if Szayel just _thought_ he only smoked one or two. Instead, she focused on the sky and on the book.

Near the end of the tragic play, Orihime began to sniffle. Her host ignored it at first, but when tears began to run down her cheeks and she began to whimper pitifully, he reacted.

"What are you doing?" Ulquiorra asked sharply, straightening his already rigid posture.

Lips quivering, the amber-haired woman squeaked, "All they wanted was to love each other! Their families unfairly forced them apart and lead them to their _deaths_!" she exclaimed suddenly and histrionically, breaking out into absolute hysterics.

The pale man almost gaped at her as she sobbed (almost). Her hands covered her face and she snorted to keep her nose from spewing mucus several times. Most of him was disgusted and aghast at her moronic display, but a small part of him couldn't help but be absolutely _fascinated_. After all, he had never seen a human face _contort_ in such an inhuman way, nor had he seen cheeks redden so much from sadness, nor had he ever heard such a sound come from person, nor had he seen anyone put themselves into such sorrow that they hyperventilated so loudly. It was just a _book_.

When she had finally quieted, the emerald-eyed man instantly took the chance to speak. "In the case you did not notice, Juliet is thirteen and Romeo is seventeen. They brought it upon themselves," he rebuked.

Gasping, Orihime looked up with an expression that so clearly said, "How _dare_ you!" Instead, she asked, "How could you say something like that? It's one of the greatest love stories ever!"

"It is not love, it is romance," Ulquiorra argued straightforwardly. Gesturing to the book, he continued, "As I said, they were young. Their hormones happened to be in full-swing at the same time, they were stupid, didn't listen to their parents, had a romp in the hay, and went off and killed themselves."

Huffing, she muttered sassily, "Well, when you put it like that, of course, it sounds bad! Maybe if you said it more like," she suggested dreamily, thinking before going on, "they were star-crossed lovers destined to be together, but their parents were narrow-minded and opposed their union, so they eloped and spent their wedding night together, but Romeo was forced to run! Thinking him gone, Juliet desperately tried to bring him back to her, and succeeded, but her plan involved feigning her death!"

Sniffling again, she creaked, "Believing her dead, Romeo wanted to be with her and killed himself, but when Juliet awoke and found him dead, she could not live without him and died too! Finally, their families came along and found them both dead. Realizing their own faults, the feud ended and they all lived happily ever after, unlike their dear children!"

The farmer blinked twice at her. "You're strange," he finally stated. It wasn't a joke – it was a fact, to him.

Smiling, Orihime returned pleasantly, "So are you," and went back to her book.

"Hm. Touché," Ulquiorra murmured.

Soon after, the sun went down and they were enveloped in near darkness. Finishing what was, by then, his fourth cigarette, he grunted as he stood and instructed, "It's getting late. Put the book back on the shelf where you found it."

"One more page," she replied simply.

"You cannot possibly see in this light," he retorted, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "It's time to go inside before the mosquitoes find us and siphon all of our blood."

"I can too see! Lil' bitty bugs don't scare me none," the autumn-eyed girl stated firmly.

The annoyance was tangible. "Double negative. 'Don't' and 'none' reverse the meaning completely," the pale man corrected stiffly. "Also, you can't see – that's impossible. Double also, you have never seen a southern Minnesotan mosquito. You will be frightened and it will hurt, I promise you."

"I'm almost done!"

"Now."

"Oh, c'mon!" Orihime whined, jutting out her bottom lip pathetically. "Pwease!"

Ulquiorra actually snorted. " 'Pwease?' Really?" he questioned incredulously.

"Pwetty pwease?" she asked hopefully.

"No."

Slapping the book shut, the young woman stood. "Fine," she muttered.

"Good," he replied flatly. With that, he headed inside.

Sassily, she sneered and mocked, "Fine."

Obviously hearing, the emerald-eyed man peeked out again and repeated pointedly, "Good."

Whirling around, Orihime watched him delve back inside. "Fine!" she snapped.

Kicking off his shoes, Ulquiorra called out, "Good!"

As he walked up the stairs, she raced inside, slammed the door shut, and shouted after him, "Fine!"

Turning the corner towards the bathroom, he returned almost casually, "Good!"

Whipping her amber hair behind her, she stomped into the living room and put the book on the shelf. Still frustrated, she outright screamed, "FINE!"

It took a moment, but his footsteps pounded heavily on the stairs before he leaned out of the stairwell and bit back icily, "Good."

"Fine!" she burst, stomping childishly.

He blinked and sighed, "Fine."

"Good!" she huffed. A moment later, she blinked and shook her head, wondering what had just happened. She glanced at him.

He was smug about it, but the coldness in his eyes masked how victorious he was currently feeling.

Orihime knew, though. She could tell. However, she still couldn't tell how or what he had won. Why was it so _funny_ to him?

A moment later, Ulquiorra utterly deadpanned and he sighed, "You haven't seen that, have you?"

Lolling her head, the young woman inquired innocently, "Seen what?"

Exasperated, he exhaled, "Damn," and headed back upstairs.

Even more irritated, she hurried to the steps and called, "Seen _what_?"

"Never mind," he replied, sounding almost moody (almost).

"No, really, what?" the guest laughed insistently, ascending the stairs.

He groaned, wondering why she couldn't just shut up. "I'll put it out for you tomorrow before I leave," he compensated.

"Put out _what_?" Orihime scoffed.

Again, Ulquiorra sighed loudly. "It's a cartoon. You won't understand until you see it," he explained briskly. "Satisfied?"

_Not really_, she thought, but he was getting annoyed with her, so she went quiet.

There was the running of water before he emerged from the bathroom, gesturing for her to go next. "There's a toothbrush on the sink for you," he stated.

"How will I know which one is mine?" she asked curiously.

"You will know." With that, he headed for his room.

Confused, the visitor inched into the linoleum room. There was a shower-tub, a toilet, and a sink. On the sink, there were two toothbrushes. One was white, and the other had been Sharpie-d pink.

Yeah... the pink one was hers.

After brushing her teeth and her hair (she figured he wouldn't mind if she used his hairbrush – he had left it out in plain sight, after all), she went back to her room, picked out some pajamas, changed into them, and sat on her bed, cradling the music box.

It really was a beautiful box. She traced the gems lightly, inspected the daintily painted flowers, and slid her fingers over the soft, worn velvet appreciatively. The music was so soft, so gentle, so soothing... Within moments, her eyelids were heavy.

Closing the box, she stood and peeked out into the hallway. As expected, Marcy sat silently on the right side of the hall, guarding her master.

Carefully, Orihime got down on her knees and shuffled toward the creature. "Good night, Marcy," she smiled. Again, she slowly reached out for the animal's ears. However, she came no closer than she had previously before the dog growled dangerously.

Standing, the young woman backed off respectfully, called, "Good night!" and receded into her room.

Finally, she wound up the music box again, opened it, and lay down under the comfortable sheet. She sunk into the mattress, and after only moments of adjusting, she slipped into unconsciousness.

* * *

**This is the cartoon: http-:/-www.-youtube.-com/-watch?v=9-k5J4RxQdE (without the dashes :D) DUCK SEASON, FIRE!**

**There's also this one, but it has some... pronoun trouble: http-:/-www.-youtube.-com/-watch?v=eLOIzE0cqo0**

**I love Loony Tunes to death. I watch them waaaay too often. :P**

**Hope you likey!**

**Love, Bunny-chan**


	4. As Children Do

**It's short, I know, but it's only the beginning, and it's rather significant. BUWAHAHAHAAA!**

**Thanks to Guest(1, and it'll take a while for him to actually like her), ulquihime7980, Saiyuri Haruno, BeccaRomano, InfinitySign, and Guest(2, yay!) for reviewing!  
**

**Thanks to those who reviewed/subscribed, too!**

**Just a note; if you don't like it, DON'T READ IT FOR THE LOVE OF CHEESECAKE (which I love, a lot, so that means DON'T READ IT, a lot)!**

**On to a look inside my happy place.**

* * *

"Okay, kids! Go on outside and play!" Nelliel instructed. As the children screamed and fled the chapel, she waddled to her chair, plopped down with a grunt, and rested her hand on her stomach.

Smiling, Orihime collected the morning's in-class exercises. "How is he?" she asked sweetly.

"Oh, he's busy as ever!" the pregnant woman laughed, rubbing her swollen tummy gently. "No kicking just yet, but I can feel him – ooh!" Gasping, hazel eyes wide, she released a hoarse chuckle and finished, "Squirming."

While setting the papers on the desk, the amber-haired young lady couldn't help but notice the teacher's absolute glow. "It must be wonderful," she remarked. "Having a little person inside you, I mean."

Gently, Nelliel smiled as she grasped her assistant's wrist and pulled her hand to settle on her stomach. "Feel. Don't worry, you can press in a little," she instructed.

Awed, the autumn-eyed girl dropped to her knees and focused intently on the sensations from her hand. Suddenly, she felt something shift, and a moment later she became aware of a drumming sensation. Mouth wide, she whispered, "Whoa."

"It's fun, isn't it?" the platinum-haired woman asked, clearly amused. "I showed Nnoitra about a week ago, and I'm pretty sure he's obsessed with the little guy right about now," she explained softly. "He's never been the fatherly type, but ever since we learned I was pregnant, he's been acting more gentle and more like my own father. I knew he would be, somehow," she laughed boisterously, "otherwise I probably wouldn't have married him!"

Orihime was unable to say anything, awed by the feeling beneath her hand. Merely smiling, she nodded and then gasped as the baby moved again. After a moment, she managed to stand laugh gently. "That's... amazing." Meeting her friend's hazel gaze, she smiled, "I'm sure he'll be very, very handsome." Curious, she inquired, "Have you decided on a name?"

"Yes," Nelliel nodded, shrugging, "but we've decided not to tell anyone just yet. We want it to be a surprise."

Still amazed, the young assistant only "hm"ed in understanding.

"So," the oceanic-haired woman smiled, switching topics, "how are you and Ulquiorra getting along?"

Smiling wryly, Orihime sighed and shook her head. "Oh, we're getting along swimmingly!" she announced sarcastically, muttering, "We've barely had two hours worth of contact, and I'm pretty sure he thinks I'm insane already." Snorting, she questioned incredulously, "Did I tell you that he left me a cartoon to watch while I ate breakfast? Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck." Groaning and clenching her hands, she huffed, "I fell for it. Last night – I fell for a you-say-I-say-I-say-what-you-say cartoon trick! You should've seen the look on his face! You'd think he just won a huge argument!"

Brightly, Nelliel laughed a warm, hearty belly-laugh. "I love that episode!" she cackled. "I generally love Elmer Fudd, but that was just hilarious!" After a moment, she blinked and asked, "Wait, you fell for that?"

Reluctantly, the young woman nodded.

Sympathetic, the teacher patted her friend's arm and halfheartedly comforted, "At least he didn't make fun of you."

Surprised, Orihime peeped, "He would do that?"

Scoffing, Nelliel explained, "Oh, good lord, you should've known him as a teen! You would never believe how acerbic he could be! He used to sit there listening, being quiet like he is, and then all of a sudden someone would say something and _bam_! He'd make a remark that would have Grimmjow rolling on the floor laughing and everyone else staring at him in shock of how rude he was!" she retold, smirking to herself. "He'd tease people mercilessly, but he'd do it in that way of his that makes you wonder if he's taunting you or not."

"That makes sense," the amber-haired girl agreed. Curious, she inquired, "What changed? You said 'used to.' What changed?"

Softly, the mother smiled and shrugged, "He grew up, somewhat. We all did, but I think he grew up the least of all of us."

"The least?" Orihime questioned, thoroughly confused. "But he's so … serious."

"Oh, no; that's just him," Nelliel explained, shaking her head. Leaning further back in her chair, she continued sincerely, "He's always been determined. He likes things his way – he has since I met him when we were babies. I think that he grew up only as much as he needed to, and only when he wanted to." Sighing, she added, "Believe me, when he's inside that empty house of his, he's still that fourteen year old boy who couldn't keep his mouth shut when he had something snarky to say."

"He's so responsible!" the teacher's assistant insisted.

Nodding, the pregnant woman affirmed, "He is. But," she continued, lowering her voice to a whisper as if it was a big secret, "who ever said that having responsibility makes you grown up?"

Silenced, Orihime sat on the desk. Contemplating what her new friend had said, she thought for a moment before another thought filled her mind. "Why does Ulquiorra hate women?" she asked, more curious than anything else.

Laughing loudly, Nelliel snickered and snorted breathlessly until she choked on her own breath and had to calm down before speaking. Noting her assistant's weirded-out expression, she explained simply, "He doesn't... _hate_ women. He just... doesn't... like us. Generally."

"Why?" the autumn-eyed girl questioned sincerely.

Shrugging, the mother sighed defeatedly. "I... It's not for me to talk to you about," she explained, "and I would suggest you not ask Ulquiorra, either. At least, not yet. Just know," she comforted, reaching out and patting her friend's arm, "that he may act like he hates you, but it's not really you. It's nothing against you at all, really. Okay?"

Confused, the amber-haired girl nodded.

"Goodie! Now, could you go call the kids?" Nelliel requested. Grunting suddenly, she laughed softly and explained, "I don't think he wants me up yet."

Giddy once more, Orihime gladly got up and did as she was bid.

–

When Orihime returned to the house on the hill, she was unsurprised to find her host sitting in his rocking chair, smoking, and watching the sunset. His dog lay happily at his feet.

As she ascended the steps, Ulquiorra's hard emerald eyes glanced her way. Bluntly, he remarked, "You missed supper."

"Nelliel asked me to eat with her and Nnoitra," the amber-haired young woman explained.

"Hm." Returning to his smoking, he jibed lowly, "Feel free to stay in town more often."

Defensive, she set her hands on her hips and sassed, "Well, maybe I will."

"Good." He exhaled a long stream of smoke.

Clenching her hands at her sides, she paused as the frustration built up. "Fine!" she burst finally, stomping her foot on the whitewashed boards before sticking her tongue out at him and hurrying inside. As she vehemently discarded her shoes, she heard him asking his dog how he had been "duped into taking in such a childish woman," but it only served to steam her further.

Plotting, she suddenly remembered her earlier conversation with the teacher. Peeking out onto the porch, Orihime smiled with false pleasantry and prodded, "Nel is right. You are really immature."

Unfazed, Ulquiorra glanced at her and retorted, "And yet I am not the one who requires the last word."

"Oh, really?" she snorted mockingly.

"Yes. Really," he nodded firmly.

Victorious, she shouted, "Ha! You just did it!"

"So did you," he uttered quietly, going back to his cigarette.

"You did it again!" Orihime gloated, clapping giddily.

Unable to resist, Ulquiorra hissed pointedly, "Maybe if you'd stop, I'd stop."

"But I'm not going to stop!"

"Then I won't either," he stated firmly.

"Fine!" she grinned.

"Good!"

"_Fine_!"

Standing, the emerald-eyed man dropped his expired cigarette, crushed it under his scuffed, muddy boot, and kicked it off the porch. Meeting her gaze, he easily matched her defiance with cold steel. "I will not play this game with you again," he informed bluntly.

"Why?" she goaded, taunting, "Scared you'd lose?"

Snorting, he almost sneered (almost) and retorted, "I do not lose. Ever."

"Says you," Orihime huffed, heading back inside.

"Yes, says me," Ulquiorra stated firmly. "Obviously – I just said it."

Smirking victoriously, the amber-haired girl remarked, "You're still trying to get the last word in."

"So are you."

Successful (in her own mind, anyways), she shrugged and stepped inside, explaining, "I'm going to go read now."

Sitting down again and pulling out another cigarette, the pale farmer grumbled, "You do that."

Neither of them said another word, even as they traded off for turns in the bathroom as the stars appeared outside.

Finally, dressed in her pajamas, Orihime made her way out into the hall. As the night before, Marcy guarded the right side of the hall. Cautiously, the guest knelt several feet away and shuffled forward until the dog adopted a defensive posture. Again, she reached out her hand until the canine growled. With a whispered apology and an assuring smile, the young lady stood.

"Good night, Ulquiorra!" she called softly and, receiving no response, she retired to her room.

As she drifted off, she reveled in the fact that maybe she _could_ get in the last word with him.

–

Ulquiorra sat silently on his bed. Staring out his window at the open, lush fields and the navy-blue sky, the world itself almost felt asleep.

With a push of her muzzle, Marcy opened the door to his room and jumped up on the sheets of the full-sized bed. Laying her head on her paws, she nestled beside him, eyeing him almost inquisitively.

Smiling in the slightest, he raked his pale fingers through her midnight hair, rubbed behind her ears, and patted her neck affectionately. Overall, the day could've been perfect, except for the fact that his visitor was sleeping down the hall.

After a long time, he murmured, "What do you think of her, Marcy?"

The dog glanced up at him boredly as if to say, "_Meh – she's fine_."

"I figured that's what you would think," the man uttered, continuing to pet her rhythmically. "Why does she have to be so annoying, though?" he questioned, sincerely perplexed. Sighing, he grumbled, "She doesn't make sense."

It was true – she didn't make sense, to him, at least. She was unpredictable and childish and much too bubbly. One minute she was crying and the next minute she was giggling and then the next minute she was starting an argument. She was so... _girly_, too. Not just in her physique, but also in her behavior. Seriously, what non-gay guy cried over _Romeo and Juliet_?

He couldn't deny that she was mildly pleasant when she wasn't talking. By mildly pleasant, he mostly meant mildly pleasant to look at. She had sunset hair, autumn eyes, a supermodel's body; of course, with assets like that, he couldn't exactly dislike looking at her. It wasn't that he consciously had some sort of ulterior motive; he just couldn't help but notice.

He didn't want to get to know her, though. Getting to know her would mean getting attached to her. He couldn't help but doubt that there was _any_ woman in the world that he would want to get attached to. Nonetheless, if they were living together, he supposed he would have to get to know her somewhat at some point.

Sighing, he grudgingly accepted that he had been roped into boarding her, and now he would have to put up with her. It wasn't as if he could kick her out – she had nowhere to go. He wasn't _that_ heartless.

As Ulquiorra scratched his dog behind her dark ears, he muttered, "You're a good girl, Marcy."

A happy tail-wag and a glance of sparkling black eyes was the only response he received.

Glancing out the door, he searched the sounds of the old house for any indication she was still awake. Hearing none, he slid off the bed, ignoring his pet's sad whine at the absence of his hand. Curious, he walked into the hallway quietly. Marcy followed silently behind him.

The white door opened with a soft creak that made him flinch. Nonetheless, there was no indication he had awoken her, so he pressed on cautiously.

Her amber hair spread out over the pillows, Orihime slept contently. With her lips curved into a content smile, she inhaled and exhaled rhythmically, already deep in dreamland.

He had never seen such a peaceful expression on anyone. Did everyone look like that while they slept – content and blissful? He presumed not.

Even while she slept, she smiled. It boggled his mind how anyone could be as happy as she was all the time.

Moonlight from the window spilled over her, making her look like nothing short of a faire queen. According to some old European poetry he had read once, the Faire Queen was the most beautiful creature alive, capable of enchanting any man or beast. Sometimes, even, if a man caught her eye, she would carry him off to the realm of the fairies, never to return him to mortal life. As he stared at her and listened to her steady inhales and exhales, he couldn't deny that she was enchanting.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Ulquiorra looked around the room. She had obviously made it her own already – clothes were scattered around the dresser, it smelled like something flowery (most likely some sort of deodorant), and general trash such as pieces of paper and wrappers from bubblegum (most likely given to her by either Ggio or Lilynette) were strewn over the bedside table.

Finally, he heard the slow, musical tinkling that rang through the room with increasing intervals. Glancing at the dresser, he spied the ivory jewelry box, eyes widening. "What the hell is that doing there?" he wondered aloud, shocked, but still managing to keep his voice to a whisper. As far as he had known, the ancient music box had been absent from the house for twenty years.

As he advanced to close it, it chimed one last, sad note before stopping. Murmuring in her sleep, Orihime rolled over, causing her host to pause.

Looking between the box and the girl, he sighed, picked up the music-maker delicately, and twisted the knob in the back until the jewelry case began to sing again. The woman exhaled contently, relaxing once more.

Carefully, Ulquiorra put the music box back down. His emerald eyes scanned her slumbering form, wondering where she had found the heirloom object. Perhaps she truly was magical...

Pushing the ridiculous thought from his mind, he exited the room, but not without one last glance her way. Bathed in silver from the window, she looked almost porcelain, like a fragile doll that _shouldn't_ be broken.

After a moment, he decided it wouldn't kill him to be a little nicer to her; it wasn't her fault she forgot who she was, after all. Sighing, he headed back to his room.

Of course, just because he was going to be a mite nicer to her didn't mean he had to like her.

* * *

**Okay, now he'll start being a little nicer. A little. Believe me; he's still a heartless jerk, but he's a cute jerk!**

**Love, Bunny-chan**


	5. The Niceness Plan

**Finally! I finished editing this! :D**

**Thanks to Death-Angel-of-Anime, nicholee33, xxxPureRosexxx, smylealong, Hazama-Chan, Rin Sessys Girl, ulquiHime7890, Guest, InfinitySign, Saiyuri Haruno, and BeccaRomano for reviewing! Also, thanks to everyone who subscribed/favorited! Seriously, if I didn't have all y'all, I wouldn't be doing this.**

**Presenting "The Niceness Plan."**

**TAH-DAH!**

* * *

Orihime was surprised the next morning by a sticky-note on the bathroom mirror that said, "_Made breakfast. There was some extra. Eat it._"

Smiling, she realized that he didn't seem like the type to make an accidental "extra." He had lived on his own for twenty years, after all; he must've known how much he could eat in a meal.

Touched by the sweet gesture, she tucked the sticky note in the pocket of her (well, formerly Nelliel's) jeans, finished her short beauty routine, and headed down the stairs. The young woman was shocked, in a good way, to find a generous stack of fabulously golden pancakes awaiting her. It merely made her smile more. If he had made six extra pancakes "accidentally", then he must have "accidentally" doubled, or even tripled, the recipe.

Giddy, she consumed all six pancakes in the space of ten minutes. As she placed her plate in the old, off-white dishwasher, she remarked to herself, "Holy cow, he's a good cook! I'll have to tell him that... He'll probably tell me to 'shut up, woman,' but I think I'll tell him anyways!" she decided brightly.

As she shifted into the driver's seat of the blue pickup, she found another sticky note awaiting her.

"_The truck is low on gas. Bring it over to Dordoni's and tell him I'll pay him on Sunday. Don't forget._"

Of course, he had to add "don't forget." "Women are forgetful, after all," she muttered snidely. Huffing, she was about to crumple the sticky note up and toss it on the floor of the truck (_See how _**he**_ likes it when I mess up his stupid truck!_ she thought bitterly) when she spotted the thick writing on the back that looked as if it had been written slowly, as if he was forcing himself to write it.

"_Have a nice day_," it read.

Immediately, her resenting frown melted into a squeeing, blushing grin. Folding the note nicely and putting it in her pocket alongside the other one, she laughed maniacally and firmly decided to show Nelliel, regardless of the fact that the entire town would know about it by sundown and then she would have to deal with her host when he found out.

Upon driving arriving at the chapel, Orihime was immediately greeted by the sound of a full-blown argument between Ggio and Lilynette about – believe it or not – Tootsie Rolls.

"Are you kidding? They're amazing! Back when I had braces I even cheated out on the 'no candy' rule because I could only go so long without their chocolatey, chewy goodness!" the older teen argued, sitting down on the peeling, whitewashed steps.

Groaning, Lilynette blanched, "Gross! Tootsie Rolls don't even have real chocolate in them!"

"Like hell they don't!"

Obviously, the green-blonde girl was about to taunt him about his swear until she raised an eyebrow and asked, "Wait... _braces_? Where was I when this happened?"

"When I was eight, y'little puke," the spiky-haired boy sneered mockingly. "They were just for a year, dummy."

Frowning disapprovingly, Orihime chastised, "Hey, you two – no insulting. It's just mean."

The preteen glanced at their assistant teacher in innocent confusion, explaining calmly, "But it's just how we show affection."

"Yeah," Ggio chimed in, shrugging, "if I don't insult her at least once a day, she thinks I'm ignoring her. If she doesn't insult me-"

"He thinks I'm crushing on him," Lilynette smirked teasingly.

Snorting, he scoffed, "Yeah, right." After a pause, he glanced at her incredulously, questioning, "Wait, are you saying-"

The young girl groaned, rolling her blue-green eyes. "You are such a self-centered bag of hot air!" she jibed.

As his friend stomped up the creaking steps, the teenager grinned, "Thank you!" and followed her.

Being a semi-adult, Orihime couldn't help but notice the slight coloring of the boy's cheeks. Maybe one day, eventually, something might occur between the two hot-headed children, but for now she could just giggle about it and tease them at random intervals.

Once inside, she was met with the sudden, boisterous laughter of the pregnant teacher. Amazed and shocked all at the same time, the amber-haired woman dared to venture closer and ask with a smirk, "What's so funny?"

Glancing up, Nelliel grinned and shrugged, "Oh, Nnoitra told me this joke the other night and I just got it. Sometimes I forget how witty he is!"

From the back of the classroom, Ggio snorted and stifled a chuckle.

The newcomer looked back and inquired, "You really find this _that_ amusing?"

"Are you kidding?" the dark-haired boy scoffed, smirking. "I love pregnant Mrs. Jirgua! It's like non-stop, stand-up, neurotic comedy!"

Clearly upset, the platinum-haired woman pouted, "Don't call me Mrs. Jirgua! It makes me feel old..."

Again, the sixteen-year-old laughed, shaking his head, and remarked, "This stuff is gold! I swear, if I ever become a comedian, I will have _so_ much material _just_ from this year!"

Mockingly, Lilynette gasped, "You _swear_? !"

Ggio death-glared at her, effectively shutting her up.

"Buenos diás, Señora Nelliel!" Nina chirped, her curly dark hair bouncing as she skipped into the room.

Smiling, Nelliel returned, "Buenos diás, Nina. Como estas?"

"Estoy buena, gracias!" Large, dark-brown eyes blinking innocently, the child's gaze turned to the teacher's assistant and a brilliant smile crossed her face. "Good morning, Señorita Orihime!" she offered sweetly.

"Good morning to you too, Nina," the amber-haired woman replied, smiling. As the young girl took her seat, the assistant tutor turned to the teacher and remarked in awe, "I didn't know you spoke Spanish!"

"Oh, most of us in my generation do," Nelliel explained simply. "It was the only foreign language we had at time time, so to graduate, we all had to learn it. It comes in handy when you're in the city and you go to one of those fast-food joints."

Amused, Orihime assured, "I'm sure I would sympathize with you and laugh at that if I remembered experiencing something like that, so..." She shrugged, watching as the children continued to come in and greet their classmates.

The hazel-eyed woman deadpanned, and after a moment, her lips turned into a small frown. Regretfully, she uttered, "Hime, I'm sor-"

"Oh, don't be!" the young woman laughed, shaking her head. "It's fine," she fibbed. Although she said it assuringly, she couldn't ignore the twisting of her stomach.

Class started soon after, and for the next few hours, the visitor assisted the younger kids with their in-class work, collected homework, and generally supervised the children while their teacher had her back turned and wrote on the chalkboard.

It wasn't until lunchtime that Orihime remembered the notes in her pocket. As soon as all the students were gone, she pulled them out in a flurry of giggles and practically shoved them in her friend's face.

After reading them and listening to her assistant's babbling rant, Nelliel glowed twice as bright as usual. "Holy cow!" she squealed like a giddy teenager.

"I know!" the younger woman burst, clapping ecstatically.

The pregnant woman scoffed softly, looking between them and remarking, "I've never known him to be so... considerate."

Snorting, the newcomer uttered, "Neither have I. Seriously, he's been a butthead, until this morning, anyways."

Radiant, the teacher teased happily, "You're softening him up!" Blinking, she suddenly exclaimed, "Oh my goodness, I can't wait to tell Grimmjow!" For a moment, she bounced and laughed in her rolling chair.

Suddenly gasping and freezing, Nelliel braced herself on the arms of the chair.

"Nel? Oh, gee, Nelliel, are you okay? !" Orihime screeched, panicking when her friend didn't reply and continued to breathe heavily. "Should I call Sz-"

"No! No, no, no, no, no, I'm fine," the older woman shook her head adamantly, inhaling deeply. "Don't call Szayel – I'm fine. He's just doing summersaults and ramming his skull against my stomach."

"Nel, that doesn't sound good."

A few deep breaths later and with a final, calm exhale, the teacher leaned back and smiled, "It's fine. He's just getting excited."

Concerned, the amber-haired woman asked, "How often have you been having contractions?"

"Oh, every once in a while," the older lady shrugged, shifting into a more comfortable position. "Nothing serious." When her friend continued to look nervous, she chuckled softly and assured, "Hime, I'm fine. I promise."

Uncertainly, Orihime sighed, "All right. I'm going to check on the kids." She walked away slowly, worried.

However, Nel didn't make another sound, so the TA had no choice but to trust her.

After an hour of playing goalie for Lilynette's team (she had to promise to play for Ggio's the next day, though), she ushered the children back inside. Nelliel was wakened by the noise and hurriedly pretended that she hadn't been sleeping whatsoever.

The afternoon went quickly, and once papers were sorted and filed, Orihime took the truck to Dordini's gas station, visited with Szayel for a few minutes, and headed back up the hill.

Ulquiorra was waiting for her, leaning against the doorframe with an unlit cigarette in his mouth. "You remember?" he asked as soon as she got out of the truck.

Smiling, she nodded, "Yep!"

For once, something other than annoyance showed on his face: surprise. So, she wasn't completely retarded...

"Good," he muttered, tucking the cigarette in his pocket and heading back inside.

Somehow, she had a feeling that he had started smoking just so he could look like a cool badass. She admitted, it worked pretty well.

Kicking off her shoes, she smiled into the living room at the dog on the couch. "Hey, Marcy!" she greeted cheerily.

The dog's ears perked up, and the dark, soulless eyes looked at her with absolute boredom. _Muff_ing, the canine went back to napping.

"She's never going to like you, you know," Ulquiorra advised quietly, suddenly standing behind her.

Barely jumping, Orihime turned around and looked up at him as fearlessly as she could manage. "Are you talking about you or Marcy?" she questioned daringly, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.

He honestly hadn't been expecting that. Therefore, he gave her the most simple answer he could think of.

"Yes."

Confidently, the young woman smirked. "We'll see."

Ulquiorra glared at her icily for a good, long minute. She was unwavering, and her confident smile held its place. The tension rose, but she barely even fidgeted. Finally, when she was suffocating under his gaze, she blinked.

"Supper is on the stove," he stated flatly, exiting without so much as another word.

Sighing, Orihime moved into the kitchen, rubbing her arms and feeling oddly tingly and cold. He was creepy – creepy, creepy, creepy!... yet cute. He was kind of like a wolf – he marked his territory, intimidated potential alphas, and provided for those in his clan. It was cute and weird and a little creepy at the same time.

In the kitchen, she found a steak and some sort of cream-of-mushroom soup with little strips of spinach. It looked a bit different, but it smelled amazing. She cut her meat into cubes, put them in a bowl, and poured some of the gravy on top. At the first taste, she melted. It was like comfort food; the ultimate comfort food! She squealed happily, making her way to the porch.

He had been expecting her. When she sat on the wicker seat, she babbled something through her food. Apparently, she liked it, but he paid little attention to her. He didn't need her to flatter his ego (though it wasn't exactly unpleasant to hear).

When she was almost done, she looked up at him as he squashed another cigarette beneath his boot. Smiling, she swallowed and exclaimed giddily, "This is so fantastic! Where'd you learn to make it?"

He didn't answer.

"I'm serious! It's really good! What's it called? !" she urged, taking another bite.

Something lit his eyes, but she wouldn't realize until much later that it had been some sort of twisted amusement.

"Bella."

Since she hadn't finished chewing, Orihime swallowed tightly and painfully. "What?" she choked.

Scoffing, Ulquiorra uttered distastefully, "You city folk. Where do you think meat comes from?"

"An animal," she replied quietly and simply.

"Obviously. Her name was Bella," he narrated, lighting another smoke. "She was a heifer bred and born to be eaten. I butchered her last winter."

Eyes wide, the amber-haired girl whimpered, "_You_ did? Yourself?"

"Of course. It was completely sanitary, I assure you. What I didn't cut up, I froze. Marcy ate the tripe for weeks."

Her ivory skin took on a greenish tinge. "Wh... what's... _tripe_?" she inquired hesitantly, confused.

"The innards. The intestines, the stomach, the brain, the ground-up bones, the hooves, the very back end – everything humans won't eat. I gave Marcy Bella's head for Christmas."

Orihime's stomach flipped. Moaning quietly, she thought about standing, but the mere notion made her dizzy.

"It was a mess. The snow in the front yard was all bloody; you'd think a mass murderer had passed through."

Despite the fact he said everything flatly, she had a feeling he was expanding on the details on purpose. Mentally cursing him, she managed to stand wobbly, murmur, "Excuse me," and toddle inside and up the stairs.

After about three minutes of silence, Ulquiorra realized that he had broken his self-made promise to be nicer to her. Her _green _expression, though, was... honestly, it was priceless.

He thought about telling her that he had gotten the meat through the general store (they had gotten it from another one of the farmers in the small town), and that he had made the entire thing up, but as he heard the toilet flush several times, he decided it would be worse to make her furious.

Nonetheless, he couldn't help but smirk to himself as he sat on his _solitary_ porch, smoking his cigarettes _alone_, and watching the sunset in _silence_.

* * *

**Hahaha, you FAIL at niceness, Ulquiorra! XP**

**That cream of mushroom soup and meat (pork chops and chicken breasts work too XD) thing is really SO good! It's even better on rice. :D**

**Love, Bunny-chan**


	6. What Is There To Believe In?

**Two chapters in two days! Huzzah! Just so you know, I have no more of this finished. The first five chapters had already been written and I just edited them a lot. So, now we're going like how I usually do; one chapter at a time. Thank you (in advance) for your patience with me and my cookies of UlquiHime-ness!**

**Thanks to nicholee33, smylealong, Zoe Whiteraven, Saiyuri Haruno, lovely smile, Kohryu, ulquihime7890, InfinitySign, xxxPureRosexxx, Cerice Belle, and Rin Sessys Girl for reviewing! Thanks to those who have favorited/subscribed, too! :D**

******LOL: My sister is trying to get my mom to say "IchiHime forever." Mom keeps saying "Itch my butt forever." THIS is why UlquiHime is awesomest.**

**... okaydone.**

* * *

Saturday night, Orihime went to bed thinking she could sleep in.

She had spent the entire day in town helping Nelliel arrange her nursery, which included moving heavy objects, choosing between several different blankets for the crib, and standing on a ladder to hang fun, dangly things (space ships, fire trucks, cows) from the ceiling.

When she got home at eight that evening, she had found Marcy waiting for her at the door. Very simply, the sticky note left on the doorframe said, "_Go to bed or Marcy will kill you in your sleep._" In contrast, the other side of the note said, "_Sweet dreams._"

Obediently, she had dressed in her pajamas, wound up her music box, and snuggled under her blankets. She had fallen asleep, glad it was the weekend.

–

"Girl."

Orihime rolled over and mushed her face into the endless pillows.

"Girl, wake up."

Breathing deeply, she covered her head with another pillow and ignored him blissfully.

"Get. Up. _Now_."

"Go die!" she retorted groggily.

Suddenly, her pillows – the one on top of her head _and_ the one beneath it – were viciously torn away from her and tossed to the corner of the room. Light from the window blinded her and she squeaked, burrowing beneath her blankets. Those, too, however, were yanked off of her, and his annoyed voice penetrated her dreamy state.

"If you are going to live in my house, you are going to go to town with me on Sunday mornings," Ulquiorra ordered coldly. "Get your ass out of bed before I drag you to town in your pajamas."

"You're so mean!" she whined, blinking at his blurry, too-bright image.

"Thank you; I try. Now, get up," he demanded adamantly. "I'll make you some breakfast, but only if you're downstairs in five minutes."

Moaning, Orihime sat up, her amber hair covering her face. After she blew a strand away, she muttered grumpily, "I hate you and your good-food-making skills of awesomeness."

"Fine by me," the pale farmer replied bluntly. "I'll see you downstairs."

As he exited, she rolled out of bed and, out of impulse, shouted, "Butthead! Stupid, noodle-noggined jerk face!"

Halfway down the stairs, Ulquiorra called back, "I'm not listening!"

"Puke! Numbskull!"

"Can't hear you!"

"Then why are you responding?"

"I'm not responding! I'm mocking you! Now shut up and get dressed, or goddammit, I'll do it for you!"

After a long moment, Orihime burst out laughing. Slowly, she was realizing that even though he was a jerk, arguing with Ulquiorra was so _great_! They both said the dumbest things! Cackling, she snorted and sleepily stumbled to the dresser to pick out some clothes, still giggling madly.

When she finally tumbled down the stairs and into the kitchen, hair barely brushed and her t-shirt on inside-out, Ulquiorra frowned at her. "You look like a hobo."

"So-ree," the amber-haired girl muttered, reaching for the plate of waffles he held.

Adamantly, he pulled it away from her. "We are going to church. The least you could do is _try_ to look presentable," he scolded.

"I'll finish primping after I eat!" the woman groaned, smiling hopefully, "Can I have waffles now?"

"No. Go change into something you _haven't _worn for three days, brush your hair, and do... something girly," Ulquiorra instructed.

Pouting, Orihime whined, "Waffles?"

"No waffles until you change!"

With a moan, the young lady trudged upstairs.

Ulquiorra set down the plate, shaking his head and sighing to the black labrador, "What is she, twelve?"

Marcy glanced up at him and gave her version of a cheeky, toothy grin and a happy bark. "_Deal with it, bucko,_" she seemed to say.

Groaning, the pale man huffed, "You girls always stick together."

When his houseguest finally returned, Ulquiorra choked on his black coffee. Not only was her hair up in a loose, messy, yet very nice-looking bun, but she was wearing a dress he vaguely remembered that Nelliel had made and had showed off on the last day of high school. However, he didn't recall the outfit being so... _flattering_. Maybe on Nel it hadn't been, to him, at least, but on the newcomer it was...

"Whoa."

Orihime obviously (and thankfully) didn't hear him as she looked down at the dress admiringly. The modest, flat-neckline bodice hugged her torso just perfectly so that it was complimenting and comfortable, the thin straps were the perfect length and didn't even try to fall off her shoulders, and the flaring, pleated skirt was so cute! The sundress, to her glee, was a beautiful, crisp white, and tiny pink lilies had been embroidered on every inch of the fabric. The skirt wasn't too short, either, ending just above her knees.

Ulquiorra managed to close his mouth before she looked at him. Determined to ignore his guest until she apologized for being a moron, he glanced down at his dog, only to find the canine looking up at him with sparkling black eyes that oh-so-clearly said, "_I see what you did there._"

"Shut up."

"What?" the amber-haired girl squeaked defensively. "I didn't say anything!"

"Not you – Marcy," the emerald-eyed farmer retorted, obviously not thinking it crazy at all to tell his dog to shut up as he offered her waffles. "Here."

"Thanks!" Orihime beamed brightly. As she grabbed a fork and slathered her food with syrup, she half-frowned and murmured, "I'm sorry for saying I hate you. I don't."

While she took a bite, he stared at her expectingly. "Well? Aren't you going to apologize for anything else?" he questioned at length.

"Nah!" she shrugged, giggling, "You really are a buttheaded, stupid, noodle-noggined, jerky, pukey numbskull. Oh! And you're a great cook!" Through a mouthful of waffle, she mumbled, "Oh, and even though you're all that, I still don't hate you. Well, not _that_ much," she teased, snickering into her fork.

Ulquiorra merely glared at her. Sitting at the table across from her, he continued to stare at her intimidatingly.

Unfazed, Orihime smiled sweetly, inspected him, and remarked, "You look nice."

"I am wearing what I always wear, girl," he reminded, bored.

It was true. He wore another one of his dozens of plaid, flannel, button-up shirts (this one was blue, green, and black) over a white t-shirt. His jeans were worn and comfortable, but clean, and he had yet to don his usual, muddy boots.

Crossing his arms, he remarked, "Flattery is meaningless."

"Not flattery," she corrected concisely, "niceness."

Muttering discontentedly, Ulquiorra looked off adamantly. _Annoying woman_, he thought, barely frowning. Somewhere deep within his mind, he recalled his self-made promise to be kinder to her, but her small, insignificant remarks were so... dumb. How could he _not_ respond to them?

When she _finally_ finished her breakfast, he ushered her impatiently to the truck. With brisk efficiency, they set off.

Halfway down the hill, Orihime spoke. "Hey. I just realized it's summer."

"And?" the farmer prompted dully.

"The kids are in school during the summer," she remarked, perplexed. "Why?"

Sighing, the pale man replied, "Farming town, girl. The children help their parents during harvest and planting, which interrupts their studies. Therefore, school is extended into the summer," he explained lowly, clearly annoyed with her ignorance. Why didn't she just ask Nel? Or Szayel? Or... someone _not _him?

Content with the answer, the young woman leaned back in her chair, yawning. After a moment, she groaned, "Why do you do this? Why would anyone want to get up so _early_?"

"Oh, I don't know," he remarked with icy sarcasm, "maybe because I_ like_ listening to you complain."

"You don't have to be a jerk."

"And _you_ don't have to be a whiny little girl," he retorted irritably, "so be _quiet._"

Frowning, Orihime huffed, "You're mean."

"You're annoying."

"You're a jerk!"

"Your face; shut it," Ulquiorra hissed, gripping the steering wheel tightly, "or I'll dump you back where I found you!"

The amber-haired girl's frown melted. Her expression serious, she stated, "No, you won't. You wouldn't no matter how annoying I got."

After a moment, he glanced at her before adamantly staring at the road and muttering reluctantly, "No. I suppose I wouldn't."

Smiling, Orihime settled into her seat and giggled, "I knew you weren't a total jerk." With that, she went quiet.

As soon as they arrived at the chapel, the young woman leapt out of the truck and scampered across the road to embrace the coming doctor. Both Ulquiorra and Szayel were surprised by her exuberance, but the pink-haired man paternally returned her hug.

Releasing him, Orihime greeted, "Morning, Szayel!" With that, she skipped away.

The doctor approached his pale friend as the farmer closed his door harder than need be. "Good morning, Ulquiorra," the pinkie welcomed cheerily.

"What's good about it?" the emerald-eyed man grumbled.

Undeterred, Szayel smirked, shrugged, and remarked, "I was just hugged by a beautiful ball of sunshine; everything is good for me. You've spent all morning with her. Is _nothing_ good?" he inquired skeptically.

Glancing at the amber-haired woman as she stood in the doorway of the chapel, looking up at the bell with an admiration he had never seen on a human face before, he murmured with only the slightest optimism, "The dress looks nice."

Szayel's shoulders slumped and he scoffed. "You can't be serious. Fate has dumped a stunningly wonderful angel into your life, and you can only look at the dress?" he questioned, nearly accusatory.

With a sigh, Ulquiorra uttered, "I don't believe in fate." Silently, he headed inside the church, the young lady on his heels. To his dismay, she sat with him instead of going up to sit with the teacher and her husband.

Slowly, but steadily, the small church filled. Not a single chair was left empty, but not a single person had to stand. She saw the sherif come in and take a seat, as well as Ggio and his father, the Harribel sisters, the Starrk family, and several others.

Grimmjow, hand in hand with a woman with short, blonde hair wearing a red t-shirt and worn bluejeans, sat in the row in front of them. The woman, her green eyes sparkling, smiled back at Ulquiorra the instant Grimmjow did, almost as if they had rehearsed it.

"Hi," the blonde woman greeted quietly, holding out her hand to the newcomer, "I'm Menoli."

Taking the handshake eagerly, the visitor returned, "I'm Orihime."

The blunette's fiance smirked before settling back into her seat.

Orihime smiled, glancing at her host and whispering, "She seems nice."

"Don't get on her bad side," Ulquiorra advised quietly, muttering morbidly, "She'll smash your skull and make your brain into jelly."

Giggling, the newcomer teased, "Did she do that to you?"

Before the farmer could retort, the office door toward the back of the church opened and a dark-skinned man with white, almond-shaped eyes took the stand. His deep, low voice somehow managed to echo through the room. "Good morning, friends. Welcome." After a chorus of scattered greetings, he urged, "Before I begin, let us bow our heads in veneration to the Lord, and let us ask that He join us in this room."

The reverend hung his head, laying his hands palms-up on the pedestal. To the visitor's surprise, he didn't begin to speak until everyone had assumed a similarly humble position. How did he know?

"Father, we thank You. We thank You that all are well today, we thank You for our safety, and we thank You for your blessings upon our work and our households. I'm sure that I'm not alone when I say that I love this beautiful weather, and that as I wander through the streets of this place, I am filled with peace and wonder," Reverend Tōsen sighed contently.

Curious, Orihime glanced at her host. Elbows on his legs, his hands clasped tightly in front of him, leaning forward, and his dark hair shading his face, he sat with his stunning emerald eyes closed and listened to the preacher. Blinking at him, she wondered if it was still _him_ in there. Had she not seen it with her own eyes, she never would've imagined that he would assume such a vulnerable stance. The voice of the preacher brought her out of her mini-trance.

"I also thank You that You have brought the young Miss Orihime to our little town. By Your grace and by the gifts You've given, she was found alive, and her injuries were treated. Already, she has blessed our lives, especially those of the children."

Out of the blue, Lilynette exclaimed, "Amen to that!" and giggled herself into silence.

The reverend did not tense, but he didn't smile, either, as if he had expected her outburst and had simply decided to deal with it. When the church went quiet again, he requested, "We ask for Your holy presence to fill this room, Father. Help us to open our hearts to Your words, and open our minds to understand the vastness of Your everlasting love." Looking up and scanning the room, he directed, "Please, join me in the Lord's Prayer."

Eyes widening, Orihime whispered urgently, "Ulquiorra."

Impatient, he uttered, "What?"

As the preacher took a breath to begin, she explained, "I don't know the words."

"Our Father who is in heaven, hallowed be Your name. You don't have to," Ulquiorra murmured back. "Your kingdom come-"

"What do I do? !" she panicked quietly.

"Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven." During the breath, his emerald eyes glanced at her and he instructed coolly, "Just _listen_."

Embarrassed and bordering on humiliated, the amber-haired young lady bit her lip, squeezed her eyes shut, and opened her ears.

"Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our debts, as we have forgiven our debtors."

It was something so simple, but it was somehow magical to hear an entire town praying the same thing. Looking around at everyone in the church, she wondered if they knew how they sounded, or if they were just lost in their prayer. It was oddly fantastic, as were many things in the town.

"Lead us out of temptation, and deliver us from evil, for Yours is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory forever."

Even Orihime knew what to say now, and she softly joined in the final utterance of, "Amen."

As the townspeople raised their heads, Reverend Tōsen guided, "If you brought your Bible, please turn with me to Psalm twenty-three."

Orihime watched as almost everyone got out their book. Only a few were completely alike in their binding – she saw dark reds, warm browns, light blues, midnight blues, and Lilynette's was a lime green. Even her host beside her extracted a black, leather Bible from beneath his seat, and she assumed he must've brought it in when she hadn't been looking. It had to be his; after all, it did have his name engraved in silver on the bottom right corner of the front cover.

The reverend, too, had his own Bible, but the newcomer noticed that not only was it worn from use, but on the front cover, it had _The Holy Bible in Braille_ emblazoned in gold writing.

When he began reading, she tried her hardest to listen, but soon found her attention slipping. As he preached on what it meant to be a "sheep" of "the divine shepherd, Jesus Christ," most of what he said went far over her head. Why were people being sheep again?

_That would be a weird world_, she thought, giggling slightly at the thought of a grumpy, emerald-eyed sheep. Even as the reverend spoke of holy peace and godly justice, all she could think of was that little sheep trudging all over a big, wide field and looking upon everything with grudging disdain.

Finally, the sermon ended. With a nod, the reverend uttered, "Thank you for coming. Go in peace."

Before she could stand, a pale hand on her arm stilled (and shocked) her. "Wait until they clear out. No one wants to see you trampled," her host instructed, not at all realizing that he had implied that he didn't want her trampled either.

Orihime did, though, and it made her smile. Content, she settled into her chair and beamed at everyone as they passed. Eventually, only Ulquiorra, Grimmjow and his fiancé, the preacher, and one other man she had never seen before remained.

As the blunette stood, he asked, "You comin' for lunch?"

"I don't have anything better to do with my life," Ulquiorra muttered with a shrug.

Sneering at his friend, Grimmjow snorted, "I know _you_ are, jackass. I was askin' the girl. She's been goin' to Nel and Nnoitra's these past days, y'know."

"Yeah, jackass," Menoli parroted, unable to hide her smirk.

Honored to have been invited, Orihime nodded. "I'd be glad to come," she smiled.

With that, the two finally exited.

Standing, Ulquiorra grumbled, "We best get over there before Grimmjow eats everything."

"He wouldn't do that," the amber-haired girl averred, getting to her feet as well. "That would be mean."

Incredulously, the farmer raised a thick black eyebrow. "We _are_ talking about Grimmjow, correct?"

"Yeah," the newcomer murmured. Smoothing out her skirt and shrugging, she inquired, "So?"

Before he could speak, the brunette man who had been conversing with the preacher paused and greeted charmingly, "You must be Orihime. It is an honor to meet you," he offered, approaching and holding out a hand to her.

Gladly, Orihime accepted the gesture and return the man's handshake. Quite accidentally, she noticed that his large hand brought on the same feeling his smile did – one of warmth and comfort. Withdrawing her hand, she remarked, "Nice to meet you too, mister... um..."

"My apologies," the charming man chuckled, "I'm Sōsuke Aizen, the mayor of our town."

Eyes widening, she couldn't help the surprised squeak that escaped her lips. "I... oh. Hi."

Behind her, Ulquiorra groaned quietly rolled his emerald eyes languidly.

Clearly amused, Sōsuke smirked at the young man and asked, "Not going well with her?"

Sighing, the pale man grumbled, "You have no idea."

"Aw, gee!" Orihime teased, folding her hands behind her back and actually managing to blush on command. "You're so funny, Ulquiorra! Don't worry, Mr. Mayor!" she assured. "He's only joking! We're getting along super good and he's been so nice to me!"

Ulquiorra blinked at her, scoffing, "You can't be serious."

"You're right, I'm not; you're a butthead," the autumn-eyed girl snorted, her happy demeanor switching to emulate her host's dim one (on purpose, too!). "It's kind of weirdly cute in its own way, though."

"'Cute'?" the man in question echoed. Disproving, he grumbled, "I swear, you get crazier every day."

"Just like how you get more grumpy every day!" she pointed out, grinning. Turning back to the mayor and ignoring her glaring host, she explained, "Anywho, since I'm kinda just tagging along with Ulquiorra today, I guess I'll see y'later. We're gonna go eat with Grimmjow and Menoli."

Obviously amused, the mayor nodded and bid them a friendly goodbye before turning back to the preacher.

Ulquiorra followed his houseguest out of the church, one hand in his pocket and the other holding his Bible. It was terribly ironic and somewhat wrong that the idle hand itched to duct tape her big mouth while his other gripped "the ultimate story of patience and love," as the reverend would call it. Patience and love had nothing to do with what he was feeling.

Tossing the Good Book into the front seat of his truck, he turned his icy emerald gaze upon her to find her staring at the church still. "Hurry up," he urged impatiently.

To his surprise, she smiled sweetly in his direction and murmured, "Okay."

The dreamy look in her eyes half disturbed and half mystified him. What was so special to her about that old church? First it was the bell, now the entire thing. It was just a building.

When they reached the bar, a table in the center of the room was already set and an array of food was laid on it. Grimmjow sat idly, elbow on the table and chin in his hand.

"Where's Menoli?" Orihime asked, sitting across from the blunette.

"Fooding."

Sighing, Ulquiorra uttered, "That's not a word, idiot."

"I know. I just said it to bug you," the spiky-haired man taunted.

The amber-haired girl smiled to herself, glancing down at her lap. She stayed like that until the chrome double-doors leading to the back opened, revealing a clothes-changed blonde woman. Instead of her modest t-shirt and long jeans she had worn before, she now had a white halter-top and tattered shorts that exposed most of her skin.

Orihime looked at her host in surprise as if to ask, "Is this _normal_?" When he shrugged and nodded, she sealed her lips shut.

Setting down the pitcher of lemonade she held, Menoli smirk-smiled at their guests and gestured to the mountain of grilled cheese and ham sandwiches and the aromatic tomato soup in silent invitation.

The newcomer couldn't help but notice the glance between the men before Ulquiorra reached out and took the first sandwich. The action caused a curse to fly from the bartender's lips, and he continued to grumble as he took three sandwiches for himself.

"Don't bother with it," the blonde woman instructed idly as she served the soup. "They've been doing it since they were six."

Confused, Orihime inquired, "Um... what _are _they doing?"

Snorting, Grimmjow grumbled through a mouthful of cheese, "Getting first serves on food; duh. I'll never forget the time he stole the first cupcake at that birthday party..."

Ulquiorra sighed, closing his emerald eyes and reminding, "It was _my_ party, Grimmjow."

"So?"

Again, the farmer sighed, but he filled his mouth with food and chose not to speak.

"Don't mind them," Menoli advised. "Take a sandwich. Go on; they're Grimmjow's favorite."

Noticing the pale man eyeing the grilled cheese filled plate, Orihime hurriedly snatched the one she saw his gaze lingering on. Immediately, he glared at her.

The blunette watched the exchange as the houseguest playfully stuck her tongue out at her host before nibbling on her food. Smirking, he chuckled to his fiancé, "I think I can deal with this chick."

"Just don't deal with her too much," the blonde warned quietly, slurping her soup. "We both know I'm the jealous type."

Before he could banter back, Orihime exclaimed, "This is amazing~! It's seriously the best sandwich ever!"

"Thanks," Menoli smirked, explaining proudly, "The nice thing about this town is that the general store gets everything from the farmers around here. The cheese is from the south dairy farm, as is the butter, and I made the bread yesterday!"

Without thinking, the amber-haired girl asked, "What about the ham? Did that come from the city?"

"Oh, hell no!" the green-eyed woman scoffed. Pointing in the general location of the edge of town, she added, "That came from Nnoitra's farm. He raises pigs, cows, and chickens for eating instead of produce. This ham was from a recent batch. He had 'em butchered just last month." With that, she bit into her own sandwich.

Ulquiorra coughed, choking on his food. In what seemed to be an attempt to keep bread from flying out of his mouth, he covered his lips with his pale hand, quivering.

"Dude!" Grimmjow shouted. Slamming his palm on his friend's back, he yelled, "What, dude, you choking or something? ! My fiancé's trying to kill you!" he surmised melodramatically. "Man, we all knew she'd go mass-murderer eventually! Don't puke up your organs, now, dude! Drink something!"

As the farmer shook even more, Menoli poured him another glass of lemonade and pushed it toward him.

Amidst the panic, only Orihime realized that was was _laughing_ – specifically, at _her_.

In furious retribution, she kicked him under the table as hard as she could.

Almost instantly, Ulquiorra took in a short, sharp breath and stopped his silent snickering. Gripping the table with one hand, he pushed the blunette out of his face with the other. "Shut up, you two," he ordered tensely. "It just went down the wrong pipe; I'm fine."

Sitting again, Grimmjow shoved his buddy in the shoulder and scoffed, "You are _such_ a jackass! We were trying to save your life!"

"I'll let you know when I need my life saved, all right? Stop touching me," he demanded, scooting his chair away. "Just eat your damn food; it'll keep you from talking."

Annoyed and somewhat bitter, the bartender tattled to his fiancé, "I think he just insulted your cooking, sweet cheeks."

Menoli gave him dubious glance and scoffed, "You did _not_ just try to sic me on your jackass buddy."

"Hell no!" Grimmjow recovered smoothly, kissing her cheek affectionately. "I'm just sayin' he's wrong, s'all."

Rolling her eyes, the blonde pecked his lips before leaning back in her chair. She glanced at the visitor, shrugging and explaining, "He's an idiot sometimes, but I love him."

With a chuckle, the blunette crossed his arms and muttered fondly, "That's what I love about you."

"That I'm forgiving?"

"And awesome."

"You're right," Menoli smirked, "I am."

Elbows on the table, Orihime cradled her face, lolled her head, and remarked softly, "It's so cute... and really weird, gross, and wrong at the same time."

"That basically describes them perfectly," Ulquiorra grumbled, sipping his lemonade. "Aside from the cute part, that is."

As the pair made googly eyes at each other, even the autumn-eyed girl began to doubt her original opinion that it was cute.

After lunch, Ulquiorra hurriedly lead them out of the bar. He didn't seem to notice her glaring at him as best she could; she hadn't forgotten his discreet mocking, nor had she forgiven it.

Before she could formulate a plan of revenge, Ggio, Lilynette, and Nina did it for her and ambushed them... with water guns.

Nina, aiming for Orihime as she raced from her hiding spot, fired randomly with the heavy gun, completely soaking the front of the farmer's shirt. While Ggio drenched his teacher's assistant's hair and Lilynette drew dark water stripes on the woman's dress, the little Hispanic girl stared in horror at the pale man, who glared back at her.

"We got you! You're on our team now!" Lilynette declared adamantly. "Right Ni – Nina, what-?"

All eyes turned to the young girl as she released a wail. Tears poured from her deep brown eyes, her dark hair sticking to her tanned face. Shrieking, she raced to the amber-haired woman and wrapped her arms around her legs, sobbing and sniffling.

Immediately, Orihime picked up and cradled the weeping child. Shocked, she glanced at the equally surprised farmer and questioned, "What did you _do_? !"

"I looked at her," Ulquiorra replied.

Ggio came to stand beside the newcomer, arms crossed. Gold eyes glaring, he defended, "We're just playing, and you went and made her cry with your scary looking!"

"It was not intentional," the pale man shrugged. The crying child was getting on his nerves. "Can't you make it stop?" he asked his houseguest.

"Hey! Listen to me!" the shorter male demanded. "Apologize to Nina!"

Returning the young boy's glare with equal intensity, Ulquiorra uttered, "_You_ listen to _me,_ cocky brat. I did nothing. It was the child's own interpretation of my reaction that has caused her to cry."

"Enough!" Orihime huffed suddenly. Soothing the child, she assured, "It's okay. Okay?"

The girl nodded feebly.

Turning to the farmer, the autumn-eyed young lady pleaded in a whisper, "Please, Ulquiorra. It's just two words. You don't even need to mean them; just say it and she'll be okay."

Annoyed, he eyed the sniveling girl. He was wet down the front, he had been yelled at by a little puke, and now his guest was giving him doe eyes, and it was all her fault. Nonetheless, those big eyes persisted, and he finally sighed, "I'm sorry. I did not mean to make you cry."

Sheepishly, Nina looked up from her friend's shoulder. "You're not mad?" she whimpered.

"I am inconvenienced, but no; I am not mad."

Not knowing what "inconvenienced" meant, Nina beamed and squirmed out of the amber-haired lady's arms. Unexpectedly, she hugged the pale man's leg before picking up her water gun and racing off, calling for her friends.

"See ya, Hime!" Ggio called as he and Lilynette jogged after their younger friend.

"Bye!" Orihime waved, grinning. Once they turned the corner, she turned to her host, surprised to find him looking straight at her.

Incredulous and yet endlessly amused, Ulquiorra scoffed, "He calls you 'Hime?'"

"He's sixteen, and he's _Ggio_," the autumn-eyed woman shrugged simply. "It's not a big deal to him at all. He calls Lilynette a ton of names."

"Yes, but none are as affectionate as 'Hime.' I have heard their... conversations. They call each other insults," the farmer explained, "not pet names."

Mouthing his final sentence, she thought for a second before letting out a bell-like giggle. "Oh, he doesn't have a crush on _me_!" she refuted, adding, "He has a crush on Lilynette. That's why he teases her all the time."

"Ah-huh," Ulquiorra nodded doubtfully.

Groaning, Orihime's shoulders sagged and she asked, "Didn't you ever like a girl in high school? If you had, I bet you would've teased her."

"I did not."

"Oh, right," the amber-haired girl sighed, folding her hands behind her back. As she strode away, she grumbled, "Woman-hater."

"What did you just call me?"

With a smile, she denied, "Nothing!"

–

"And, Father, bless this food to our bodies, as well as our companionship during this meal. Amen," Reverend Tōsen prayed, unfolding his hands and pausing before taking a biscuit from the table.

Despite the fact she was sitting with a mayor, a priest, and a jerk, Orihime felt very comfortable at that table. As she, too, took a biscuit to eat with her steak, mashed potatoes, and buttered broccoli, she looked around at the table of men and smiled to herself, thinking how odd it was for only a moment.

"Did you enjoy the sermon this morning, Miss?" the reverend inquired, turning his white eyes to her.

For some weird reason, the amber-haired woman suddenly wondered if it would be rude to blink at him. Not that he would see it, but he seemed to know what was going on around him even though he couldn't see. "It was nice. A little different, but nice," she smiled honestly. What little she had listened to _had_ been nice.

As he buttered his biscuit with shocking precision, the dark man asked, "Do you remember being a woman of faith, Miss?"

"No. I'm sorry; I don't," she admitted quietly, taking the salt as her housemate passed it to her.

Reverend Tōsen nodded solemnly. "Pity. I hope while you are here you will learn of the acceptance and justice of Him for the first time."

Confused, Orihime inquired, "How do you know I wasn't faith-y before I forgot?"

"God is not limited by us. If you had known Him, the only thing you would have known when you awoke would be Him," the blind man explained somewhat cryptically. "In fact-"

"Please, Kaname," Sōsuke interrupted with a sigh, "no baptisms at the dinner table."

Raising a thin eyebrow, the pastor's lips set in a firm line and he began, "Have you forgotten the Last Supper? The preachings during the evening meals? The sermon on the mount and the feeding of five thousand?"

"You are not Christ, Kaname," the mayor reminded exasperatedly. "Besides, you may make her uncomfortable."

"I may not be Christ Jesus, but I am his servant tending his fields, ripening the vineyards until harvest time and bringing in other workers into his glorious, righteous service," Reverend Tōsen countered with a passion. "I spread the word of his love and justice, and I am-"

"In love with the sound of your own voice?" the brunette teased, stabbing his broccoli.

"Says the charismatic puppet of the antichrist who denies the justice and judgement of God!"

Sighing again, Sōsuke urged, "Kaname, I will not debate politics versus religion right now. Please, enjoy the food, enjoy the company, and keep the full-on God-speak to a minimum."

The dark man huffed and began to nibble his potatoes in a dainty, sort of mousy way.

Orihime watched in awe. True, the religion talk was making her feel a little left out, but the reverend was just fascinating. He was so passionate about the god of his. If Ulquiorra was so dedicated that he went to church every single Sunday, why didn't he have this passion? Maybe his passion didn't lay in religion... but what did it lay in, then?

As she ate, she noticed that her host didn't say a word. At length, she asked, "You okay, Ulquiorra?"

Surprised, Ulquiorra glanced up and nodded. "Fine. Why?"

"You haven't said a word."

"He comes for the food," Sōsuke joked, smiling and sipping his tea before continuing, "not the conversation. He's always been a man of few words, you understand. Don't let it bother you."

The pale man had no problem with the mayor speaking for him, and he continued to eat in silence.

Orihime finally got into a conversation with the reverend about Nelliel, which lead to children, and then to marriage. Soon enough, the brown-eyed mayor was smirking to himself, eating his steak, and the newcomer was engaged in a sermon about godly interactions between man and woman.

"A marriage requires not only emotional and physical _love_, but honest _respect_ as well! If a woman does not respect her man, her man will become weak. If a man does not respect his woman, she will become insecure and feel unprotected. If respect is mutual, however, the man will be strong and confident, and his pride in his wife will make her feel appreciated and loved and cared for."

"W-wait, where do the children come in again? I'm sorry; you lost me."

"Yes, of course. The Lord said, 'Be fruitful and multiply.' This command was given to Adam and Eve, the first man and wife. Eve was created for Adam, and Adam alone. These days, there are women who have many Adams, and Adams that have many Eves. Patience is key. God has our days planned; he has a future planned, and days of prosperity. In most countries, a marriage is only considered successful if children are produced in a certain amount of time. The production of children is not only a way to honor your spouse, but also to honor the Lord."

Under his breath, the mayor muttered, "The process is pretty fun, too."

Blind eyes glared at the man across the table. "Again, he speaks. The man, not only under the control of the government, but divorced, although I warned him from the beginning that his marriage would fail."

When the politician didn't even flinch, Orihime hesitantly inquired, "You were married?"

"He married his school sweetheart as soon as they graduated," the reverend divulged. "Her name was Cirucci. Thoroughly unpleasant woman, you understand, and due to a series of events that were all her fault, _she_ filed for a divorce and finally left town two years after they were married."

Unfazed, Sōsuke chuckled and smirked, "It was nice while it lasted. True, it all crashed and burned, but then I became mayor and I am completely content with my life, thank you, Father Tōsen."

Flinching, the priest scolded, "I've told you not to call me 'Father.' That is for God, and Catholics. I am not the shepherd; I am merely a sheep with a bell around my neck that the others tend to trail after. I am not the king; I am a servant spreading the news of the justice and kindness of his master. I am not-"

"Shutting up?" the mayor interrupted yet again, still joking with his old friend.

Frowning, Reverend Tōsen muttered passive-aggressively, "You shut up," and went back to eating.

After merely a moment, Orihime breathed, "I love this town. I seriously love this town _so_ much."

With a laugh, Sōsuke remarked, "As I've heard this past week, it loves you as well. I've never known Ggio to talk so avidly about anyone else but Lilynette."

Knowingly, the amber-haired girl cast a gloating glance at her host, but he ignored her and grabbed another biscuit.

When the biscuits were gone, "see you later"s were exchanged, and the farmer and his guest headed back toward the church. While she sat inside, chatting with Nelliel, she noticed that her housemate stood outside, smoking in the fading light.

With fascination, Orihime sat through the entire town meeting. Before, she had never realized how much people cared about corn. As her host sat beside her, bored, she drank in every word, understanding half of it and listening to all of it.

Finally, as darkness overtook the town, she slid into the truck. Ulquiorra moved his bible to the dashboard and started the old rust-bucket, and they headed home.

After a long moment, the amber-haired girl asked softly, "Why do you go to church?"

"It is habit," he explained simply.

"But... you're not passionate about God like the reverend, are you?"

Blinking at her, he replied, "I am passionate about nothing."

"Nothing?" she squeaked. "Not even... farming?"

"No."

Yawning, Orihime murmured, "That's too bad. It's nice to believe in something."

As they approached the top of the hill, Ulquiorra glanced at her as her eyes drooped. "What do you believe in?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know," she shrugged, smiling. "But I believe that there's something to believe in, and that I'll find it. When I do," she sighed, closing her eyes, "I'll never let it go; not ever."

The truck stopped in the yard. Leaning back in his seat, the farmer sighed and glanced out at the billions of stars in his view.

He looked, but he didn't understand. He knew they were beautiful, but he felt nothing but a mere itch as he watched at them. They twinkled, and yet he remained un-awed.

Finally, he glanced at the woman sitting in the seat beside him, asleep. As he scanned her peaceful face, her cascading amber hair, and her dim form, he felt his heartbeat increase and his breathing slowed in response to... something.

Was this what she was talking about? Was this what she was talking about when she said she believed in something? Was this what he was supposed to feel, or was it just a physical attraction?

As she began to snore, he unbuckled himself. Rounding the truck, he opened her door, reached over her carefully, and drew her out of the car into his arms.

It was the second time he had ever held her; the first time had been rushed and panicked, as she had been bleeding and dying in the cold of the stream.

Now, as he entered the house silently, he had the opportunity to savor her. Her warmth seeped into every crevice of him, warming his chest and his cheeks to impossible temperatures. As they went up the stairs, she responded to their slight shifting, snuggling into his shoulder.

Reverend Tōsen spoke of heaven as the greatest place; full of gold and the glory of God and music and love and peace.

If that was heaven, having her so close to him was heaven on earth. He could smell the crisp green apple of her shampoo, the bubblegum Ggio had given her during the meeting, and something so sweet and pure that it could only be her in herself. Her eyes fluttered like the wings of the butterflies on her ceiling, and her chest rose and fell to a beat he knew matched that of the music box's song.

Laying her gently on her bed, Ulquiorra sighed. He unbound her fingers from his shirt, desperately resisting the strange urge to kiss her knuckles. Finally, he wound up the music box and listened.

There it was; her breathing and the music in perfect harmony.

"_Ulquiorra._"

Taking a few steps back, he closed his emerald eyes and sat on the bed, sighing.

"_Come here, sweetie._"

Even though he wasn't touching her, he could feel her warmth emanating from her body.

"_Do you know why we go to church?_"

"_No. Why?_"

"_Because, my precious little boy_..."

Her delicate fingers suddenly grasped his sleeve, her fingertips barely brushing his hand. As he looked at her in confusion, wondering how she made him remember these things, his lips repeated the words he hadn't heard in his head for a long time.

"Everyone needs something to believe in, so why not believe in something bigger and greater than yourself?" Ulquiorra whispered, touching his free hand to her soft cheek as the rest of the conversation flooded his mind.

As some invisible force twisted his chest like an old, wet rag, he heard his own, small voice ask, "_Can I believe in you, Mom? You're bigger than me_."

Her laughter – that enchanting, haunting laughter – filled his ears and echoed through his head and her murmur of the affirmative stabbed him in the chest again. She had promised then and there that he would always have her to believe in, even if he grew up into a big, stubborn man.

Two years later, she had vanished in the middle of the night, leaving a house of broken hearts, crushed dreams, dashed hopes, mutilated beliefs, and a single, ancient music box that had been lost for those long, twenty years.

All along, the soft, sweet melody kept the newcomer lulled to sleep.

Finally, Marcy entered the room. Jumping onto the visitor's bed, she affectionately nudged her master, looking at him with sad black eyes. When he sighed, refusing to meet her gaze, she bit into his sleeve cuff and pulled him up, through the hall, and into his room. Once there, she tugged adamantly on his shirt until he removed it. With that, she nudged his stomach until he sat on his own bed.

Letting out a small whimper and the slightest hint of a sorrowful cry, Marcy leapt onto the bed and lay down in her usual spot.

He was sad; Marcy could smell it on him. It had been a long time since he had been sad, or angry, or anything but annoyed or apathetic. She knew how it was to be sad; she got sad when the door closed and she couldn't come in or when the shutters slammed against the windows during big storms. She liked letting him know she was sad, so she would whine or squeak or bark until he pet her and soothed the sads from her.

She wanted to make the sads go away. She could feel it emanating from him in dark, black waves. He was sad; why was he sad? Why did the two-legs female make him sad? The two-legs woman was always happy; how could she make him sad?

After a long moment, the pale man lay back and sighed again. Patting his dog's head, he merely offered the smallest smile to her. "Marcy?"

The canine looked up eagerly.

"Good girl," Ulquiorra murmured, closing his emerald eyes.

Batting her tail, Marcy rested her muzzle on his arm comfortably and rubbed his forearm rhythmically with her face until they both fell asleep.

* * *

**Love, Bunny-chan**


	7. The Affection Complex

**Hi! I'm finally getting going on the deeper plot line! WOOT!  
**

**Thanks to ulquihime7890, lovely smile, Guest, Infinity Sign, smylealong, Zoe Whiteraven, Saiyuri Haruno, BLEACHRULES64, xxxPureRosexxx, and Rin Sessys Girl for reviewing! Also, thanks to those who subscribed/favorited! :D**

**On to story. ANGST WARNING!**

**Also, my grandparents live in southern Minnesota, so I totally know the area. It's cool; there's rivers and bluffs and farms everywhere! I love it. It's so pretty...**

**One more thing. I am seriously loving the way Ggio and Lilynette are turning out, as you will see in this chapter.**

* * *

"Sorry! I'm so sorry I'm late!" Orihime squealed as she barged into the classroom. "I-I just didn't sleep much yesterday so I just snored on right through my alarm!" Laughing nervously, she continued, "I'm sorry, Nel, really-"

"First of all!" Nelliel interrupted sharply. After a tense pause, she smiled brilliantly and assured, "It's okay. Really! You're not an official employee or anything, and secondly; I've been teaching these kids on my own for six years now. I think I can handle it," she laughed. Toddling to her friend and embracing her comfortingly, she whispered, "Cool it, 'kay?"

Embarrassed, the amber-haired woman nodded sheepishly. "Sorry," she squeaked.

"Oh, phooey on that!" the pregnant lady scoffed. Releasing her friend, she continued to pick up the papers from the morning session. "Nina told me about yesterday," she began. "Impressive, I must say."

Brightening, Orihime laughed and asked, "What, Nina soaking Ulquiorra or the fact that he didn't kill her? I was scared for a minute, too!"

Nel giggled a little, but remained genuine as she clarified, "He apologized. Ulquiorra _doesn't_ apologize."

"Well, it's not like he meant it or anything," the autumn-eyed girl snorted, waving it off.

"If he didn't, then why did he do it?" the platinum-haired woman inquired, straightening her papers and sitting in her rolling chair.

At this, the younger female paused. Blinking, she peeped, "What?"

Nelliel smiled at her friend's cluelessness. "Orihime," she whispered earnestly, "he didn't mean it, but he said it because you asked him to. He did it for _you_."

After a moment, Orihime burst out giggling. Holding her sides, she sat in one of the chairs, shaking from and screeching with laughter. Breathless, she tittered, "Oh, Ggio's right; pregnant Nel is _hilarious_!" Another bout of snickering and snorting overtook her.

Although amused, the mother insisted, "Hime, I'm serious."

The amber-haired young lady leaned back, the chair fell over, and she landed on the floor, still cackling uncontrollably.

Concerned, Ggio and Lilynette rushed in, shoving each other in competition to get through the door first.

"What's going on? !" Lilynette demanded, eyeing their assistant teacher with worry. "My god, is she okay? !"

"She's fine; Szayel just slipped her some under-the-counter giggle powder or something," the boy surmised confidently.

"Oh, please! We may live on farms, but corn is not a drug, idiot!" the greenish-headed girl snapped.

"I was talking about something else, dummy!"

"Oh, yeah, butthead? Well, feel free to explain your deep theories, hobo-head!"

Confused, Ggio murmured, "Hobo-head?" A moment later, his hands clenched and he shouted, "Never should'a done that one, Lil! You've got three seconds now, twit!"

"Insecure much?" Lilynette scoffed, crossing her arms.

"Three."

"Please! Like you're going to do anything."

"Two," he hissed.

"Yeah, have fun with that." She headed toward the door calmly under the guise of going back to their soccer game.

"One!"

As soon as she was out of the church, she leaped off the stairs and raced down the road, the wild-haired child close behind.

Meanwhile, Orihime continued to laugh crazily on the floor of the chapel.

Nelliel sighed, soothingly petting her stomach. "You really don't believe me?" she asked.

Stumbling to her feet, the amber-haired girl snorted, "Heck no! Ulquiorra _hates_ me. Just the other day he was going on about how he would _never_ like me, no matter what I did or how long we lived together!" she huffed, resting her hands on her hips. "He didn't apologize because I asked him to. He apologized because he hates children and he didn't want Nina to keep crying.

"I don't know if you noticed," she continued, her tone a strange mix of bitterness and fondness, "but he's a self-centered jerk. Me, Nina, Grimmjow; we're nothing but inconveniences to him."

Pausing, the teacher blinked her hazel eyes and remarked quietly, "I have known Ulquiorra since we were infants, and I know that he stopped apologizing just before he turned eight. He'd arrive late, interrupt a game, insult someone, break something – nothing but that blank stare as he was scolded or punished for carelessness."

"He's not eight anymore, Nel," Orihime reminded, brushing herself off and picking the pencil shavings off her jeans.

"We've talked about this; he hasn't grown up much since then!" the mother huffed, offering a small chuckle. "It's like his maturing stopped as soon as he entered puberty. He acts like Ggio most days, and we both know it."

"He called Ggio a cocky brat," the assistant teacher remarked off-topic.

"Because Ggio stood up to him, didn't he?" Nelliel questioned knowingly.

"Yeah – so?"

Sighing, the older woman explained, "It's a defense mechanism of his; one of many. When someone rebukes him or contradicts him or tells him to do something he doesn't want to do, he tends to have a mini-lash out. It's nothing big; Ulquiorra's always so controlled and restrained. Well, since he was eight," she added off-handedly.

"Why eight?" Orihime questioned, sitting on the desk. "You said that before; he stopped apologizing before he turned eight, and after he turned eight you make it sound like someone caged him up."

Immediately, Nelliel opened her mouth, only to close it again. "I'd like to tell you," she murmured. Shaking her head, she confessed, "As much as I love to tell stories, It's not my story to tell. It's Ulquiorra's, and he likes keeping it under lock and key. With things like this, his ideology is... inspired, but disturbing."

"What is it?" the young woman asked curiously. "I'm not sure if I want to know," she hemmed, "but I think I do."

With a sad smile, the platinum-haired lady explained, "He said it one night when he and Grimmjow were having some friendly drinking camaraderie. 'Live in the moment, because yesterday is meaningless and tomorrow has nothing to look forward to.'"

Orihime couldn't help but gape. "That..." she paused, biting her lip and shaking her head. "That is... _so_ depressing."

Solemnly, Nelliel nodded and murmured, "Thus began Grimmjow's 'emo' jokes." Perplexed, she grumbled, "It doesn't make sense. I mean, 'emo' seems like it should be short for 'emotional,' right? That's the exact opposite of Ulquiorra!"

"Maybe it means overly emotional?" the younger woman suggested uncertainly. "Like, mood-swingy?"

"Sweetheart, _I'm_ mood-swingy," the hazel-eyed lady scoffed. "Ulquiorra is not mood-swingy. See? It doesn't make sense!" Sobering, she sighed again and muttered, "By Tōsen, he's just so hard to figure out these days."

Confused, Orihime echoed, "'By Tōsen?'"

Blinking, the mother realized her assistant was a little out of the loop on this one. With a short laugh, she shrugged, "Oh, it's a town thing. Usually, instead of 'by God' or 'for the love of God' or 'oh my God,' we say-"

"By Tōsen, for the love of Tōsen, or oh my Tōsen," the young lady nodded in understanding. "Oh. That makes sense, I guess."

Nelliel giggled, whispering, "It bugs the reverend, too; so it's a win all around!"

Smiling, Orihime remarked, "The reverend is really interesting. I've never met anyone so passionate about anything, and yet he's so calm and focused on doing the right thing."

"Ah, yes, the right thing – 'the justice of God' is his favorite topic," the mother divulged. With a laugh, she offered, "_This_ story, I can tell. Y'see, when he was younger, his father was in a lawsuit. He was also a state senate member. Although Mr. Tōsen was right, the other family – some big politician – had much more money and ended up using a lawyer and circumstantial evidence to convict Mr. Tōsen. Due to a mistake in the court's judgement, he lost his job."

"That's horrible!"

"It was. They moved back here, where the reverend's mother was born, and joined the community. The reverend, who had wanted to be a lawyer at the time, lost all faith in our justice system, so he found faith in God's justice system," Nelliel explained simply.

Embarrassed, Orihime squeaked, "What _is_ God's justice system?"

"You'll have to ask him; I couldn't make heads or tails of that sermon," the hazel-eyes woman shrugged, leaning back in her chair. "He just got so... infuriated. Infuriated, but... comforted. It was weird; he was ranting about our current justice system run by imperfect people, and then the next he was calmly encouraging us to seek out God's justice. It was weird."

After a pause, the amber-haired girl asked, "Nel, what do you believe in?"

"Well, I don't believe that we evolved from pond scum," the woman laughed. Crossing her arms under her large chest, she remarked, "Y'know, even Charles Darwin himself admitted that natural selection could never randomly create something so sophisticated as the human eyeball. This theory of evolution, in my opinion, was just one step too far from a reasonable assumption."

Shaking her head, Orihime clarified, "I don't mean about God. I know you believe in God; I get that... sort of. But... don't you believe in anything else? Like, who or what do you trust or what do you believe will happen in your future? What... what do you _hope_ for?"

Surprised, Nelliel stared her friend in the eye and murmured, "That's... that's a really deep question, Hime."

"I know. I'm smarter than I look."

"That's not what I meant," the pregnant lady giggled, tapping her friend's nose teasingly. "I meant... okay, I meant that a little bit, but what I really meant was why are you asking such a deep question?"

Shrugging, the younger woman replied, "It's just on my mind."

"Ah." Rubbing her stomach, Nelliel thought for a long moment, staring at the chipping walls and the faded blue ceiling. "Trust... I trust Nnoitra. I trust pretty much everyone in this town. I believe they'll come through for me if I need them. I believe that my baby will be a boy."

"Unlike Szayel."

The mother laughed, "We've got a bet going, actually! If it's a boy, he owes me fifty bucks and a gallon of chocolate ice cream."

"And if it's a girl?"

"Same thing, but with strawberry ice cream," the teacher smiled. Adamantly, she uttered, "It's a boy, though. I'm sure of it."

Nodding, Orihime asked again, "And your hopes?"

"What every girl like me hopes for," Nelliel answered, shrugging and whispering, "All I want is a happily ever after with my prince."

"Hm." After a short glance at the clock, the young woman offered, "I'll go call the kids."

As her friend slipped off the desk and headed towards the door, the pregnant lady couldn't help but ask, "What about you? What's do you believe in?"

Grinning, Orihime turned around and shrugged, "I dunno yet, but it's gonna be good." With that, she went to retrieve the children.

After school, the new assistant teacher insisted that Nelliel return home and assured that not only would she clean up, but she would also be coming for dinner. Reluctantly, the maternal woman accepted and headed for home, only after ensuring that she had help.

"Dang!" Lilynette scoffed. "I never realized how many pencils we drop during class! Look at this one!" Holding up the sparkly pencil, she giggled, "It's so rainbow-y!"

Ggio held up his own discovery, gloating, "Well, this one lights up!" Pushing the mechanical pencil's button, he showed her the display of green and blue light bulbs.

"Señorita Orihime!" Nina chirped, holding up her normal yellow pencil. "Look what I found!"

Cradling the young girl's find, Orihime cheered, "Wow! This is fantastic! It's so pointy! Great job!"

Gratified, the six year old continued to assist with the cleaning.

"Hey," Lilynette frowned discreetly, "what about us?"

"Are _you_ six and incredibly dependent on what others think of you?" the amber-haired woman inquired.

Snorting, the green-haired girl muttered, "Heck no!"

"You two are doing great, too," the newcomer smiled honestly, "but Nina just needed some recognition, okay?"

Ggio nodded, balling up the strewn, wasted tape. "I think I can understand that," he nodded confidently.

"Yeah; I guess I can, too," Lilynette grumbled reluctantly. As she tossed a huge wad of crumpled paper, she asked, "What were you and Miss Nel talking about?"

Smiling, Orihime replied, "Our hopes and dreams. That was about it."

"Like... what you want to do with your life?" the dark-haired teen inquired, confused.

"For all I know, I've already done something with it," the woman shrugged, answering, "So, not exactly."

"I know what I want to do," the young Starrk grinned.

"Really?" the amber-haired lady asked. "What?"

"I want to be a mechanic," Lilynette stated proudly. "I've helped my dad fix trucks and tractors and stuff, and I love it. There's nothing like getting your hands dirty to make something work."

"Huh," Orihime smiled, nodding. "That's a really good reason. What about you, Ggio?"

Ggio stayed silent, throwing a handful of garbage into the trashcan and setting the pencils he had gathered into a desk drawer.

"Come on, dummy! Say it!" the green-haired girl urged.

Cheeks tinting red, the black-haired teen refused, "Nah. You'll think it's stupid."

"No I won't, stupid!" Lilynette joked, chuckling. "Come on! Spit it out!"

Orihime smiled gently at the young man, averring, "I won't, either. If it's what you really want, I don't see how anyone could frown on it."

Finally, Ggio sighed and divulged, "I want to play soccer. I'm too short for basketball and I'm too small for football or rugby, and I'm not gay enough for tennis, so..." Shrugging, he murmured, "I don't have a good reason like Lil. It's just what I want to do." When neither of them replied, he grumbled, "See? I told you it was stupid."

"It's not stupid," Lilynette snorted. "You're just stupid for thinking it's stupid. Y'think it's gonna be easy for a girl to be a mechanic?" Scoffing, she shrugged, "I admit; you're good at soccer. Being that the closest big soccer team is in Winona, it might be tough, y'know, but... I dunno; if you wanna do it, do it, dude."

"My thoughts... well, not exactly, but similarly," the assistant teacher encouraged.

"Granddad would have a heart attack if I told him," the gold-eyed teen claimed. "He'd never agree. Besides, he expects me to take over the store when I'm old enough. It's not like he has another grandson."

"So you're just gonna give up?" the teal eyed girl challenged. When her friend blushed, shrugging, she scoffed with disgust, "Coward!"

Shocked, Orihime protested, "Lilynette!"

"All love an' respect to you, Hime, but Ggio – you're just gonna let someone else decide who you are? !" Lilynette accused, glaring at her companion. "I don't care what you wanna do; why wouldn't you say anything about it? !"

Agitated, Ggio retorted, "What do you want me to do, Lil? Tell my granddad that I'm going off to become a superstar? Just throw away everything he's given me and chase after some half-assed dream? !"

"Half-assed? ! The way you talked about it, this is _way_ more than half-assed, chicken! You won't even _try_ to explain it to your grandpa! You're just gonna accept your dead-ended fate!"

"Kids-!"

"It's better than disappointing Granddad!" Huffing, the older teen shouted, "Tōsen-dammit, Lily, don't you get it? ! I don't even remember my parents! When I think of my father, the only face I see is my ganddad's! Even more than being a soccer player, I want Granddad to be proud of me!"

Hands fisting and knuckles whitening, he ground out, "If that makes me selfish or a coward or whatever you're gonna call me next, then _fine_. That's what I am, then. I can play soccer the rest of my life," he insisted, "but I only have so long to make Granddad appreciate me. Once he's gone, that's it. If he's not proud of me by then, he's never going to be! I shouldn't waste my time with some pipe dream!"

Suddenly, Nina appeared in the doorway, holding a sky-blue soccer ball high with a huge grin on her face and dirt on her cheeks and dress. "Look, Señorita Orihime! I found an old ball under the porch!" she declared happily. "It's got names on it, see?" Holding out the soccer ball, she waited patiently for her assistant teacher to take it.

Irate, Ggio stormed out of the church.

Lilynette's expression darkened. "It's getting worse," she whispered.

"What is?" Orihime squeaked, stunned, confused, and terrified at the same time.

"Barney. He has a cancer tumor in his liver or kidney or something around there," the preteen explained, never taking her eyes off the empty, dirt road outside. "He's had it for a few years, but he's been fighting it off on his own without the meds or anything. The tumor had stopped growing when the last x-ray was taken."

The amber-haired woman paused, realizing, "It's growing again. He's dying."

"Yeah." Tears welled in her teal eyes and she creaked, "Last I knew, if the tumor started growing again, he had a year to live." Wiping away the tears before they fell, she murmured, "I'm gonna go apologize to Ggio. I never should've called him a coward; I didn't know the facts or anything and I just-!"

"Lilynette," Orihime soothed, mussing the girl's hair gently, "he'll forgive you. Go on; the longer it stews, the harder it will be to say sorry."

Nodding, the green-haired child offered a weak smile and hurried outside.

With a sigh, the newcomer smiled at the remaining little girl. "I'm sorry, Nina; what were you saying?" she asked sweetly.

Oblivious to what had just happened, the Hispanic girl offered her friend the blue soccer ball and pointed to the names scrawled on each hexagon. "Names, see?" she smiled.

Sitting down, Orihime turned the ball around, reading each signature intently. "There's Luppi, Szayel... oh! Nnoitra and Nelliel right next to each other. Here's Grimmjow and Menoli... here's some kid named 'Tesla L.,' and here's one next to him... 'Kameko J.' Hm. Funny name," she murmured thoughtfully. She continued to spin the ball, finding all the Harribel sisters as well as Coyote Starrk with ease. The one name she was looking for eluded her until she almost gave up, when she spotted a "ul" in tiny, dainty writing.

What other name in the universe started with "ul?"

There it was; "Ulquiorra C.," scrawled in itty-bitty, but neat letters, almost as if he hadn't wanted to sign the ball and had therefore written it as discreetly as possible.

Beaming, Orihime looked up at the excited little girl. "Nina, this is fantastic. This.. this must've been down there for at least ten _years_," she scoffed, amazed. "This... wow."

"You like it?" Nina asked.

"I love it! Thank you!" the young woman affirmed. Inspecting the child, she giggled and advised, "You should get home and take a bath."

"Okay!" the girl grinned, skipping away with a song on her lips.

After she finished the last bit of cleaning, Orihime made her way to the Jirgua residence. Immediately, she showed the couple the ball that Nina had found.

"I remember this!" Nelliel gasped, snatching the ball and caressing it lovingly. "Nnoi! Look at this!"

The towering man looked into the family room, grey eyes widening at the sight of the ancient ball. "Senior year," he murmured, nodding. "Everyone signed it, right?"

"Then Grimmjow kicked it under the porch," the pregnant woman chuckled.

"On purpose?" the amber-haired girl asked, surprised.

"No; he's just an idiot," Nnoitra snorted, going on his way to the kitchen.

Nelliel pet the ball like a puppy, grinning nostalgically. "I never thought I'd see this again."

Happy that her friend was happy, Orihime inquired, "Who's 'Tesla' and 'Kameko?'"

"Oh! Right; they're not here!" the mother laughed, explaining, "Kameko is Nnoitra's little sister. Tesla is Kameko's boyfriend, and Nnoitra's best friend. They went to the west coast to visit Tesla's grandmother."

Confused, the brown-eyes woman asked, "Why?"

Peeking in, Nnoitra explained, "Tes needs his Grandma's permission to ask Meko to marry him. Family tradition and sh-" a glare from his wife cut him off. With a groan, he corrected, "_Crap_ like that."

"Kameko supposedly has to prove herself as a good candidate for a wife if they want Grandma to attend the wedding," Nelliel explained.

Concerned, Orihime worried, "What if she doesn't? I-I mean what if Grandma is too persnickety?"

Snorting loudly, Nnoitra declared, "They'll get married anyways without rich Grandma's blessing and wedding gift! They're gaga over each other. It's-"

"Cute in a gross way?" the newcomer suggested, smiling.

Annoyed that she had guessed what he was going to say, the enormous man sulked away.

"Don't worry," Nelliel assured, giggling, "he'll be fine as soon as I bring out the food." Grunting, she got to her feet, murmuring, "Speaking of that, the casserole should be done by now."

"Casserole? In the middle of summer?" Orihime wondered aloud. Quickly, she corrected, "Not that I don't like it, but-"

Laughing, the hazel-eyed woman shrugged, "We're Minnesotan. We loves us our hot-dish."

From down the hallway, her husband shouted, "Darn right we do!"

"See? I told you he'd be fine as soon as food came up," the pregnant lady giggled, toddling out of the room.

After supper, pie, and some intriguing conversation about crop circles, Orihime headed back to the truck. As she reached the church where she had parked it, she was surprised to see lights on inside.

Although she supposed it could've just been the reverend, something urged her to go inside. Silently, she opened the door and made her way toward the front, looking around for any sign of life. Had she just forgotten to turn the lights off?

That was what she assumed until she saw the dark, shaking figure curled up in the corner. Head hung, knees pulled high, and arms wrapped around his legs, the dark-haired boy convulsed and spasmed as if having some sort of stroke.

Soundlessly, Orihime knelt in front of the young man. "Ggio?" she whispered. Touching his fisted hands, she wrapped her fingers around his and murmured his name again.

His gold eyes looked up, his cheeks flushed and his eyelids swollen. Un-clenching his hand, he allowed her fingers to entwine with his comfortingly.

At length, he confessed, "I go around telling people what they should do and making fun of them when they make mistakes, yet here I am, so scared of doing _anything_ that I can't move." As a tortured look filled his gaze, his strained voice continued, "She may have apologized for it, but Lily was right today; I'm a coward. Granddad doesn't even know I know. I snuck into his room in the middle of the night to check on him when I found the x-rays and the report."

"How long?" she inquired softly, not bothering to patronize him and tell him everything would be okay.

"The doc's report said next July, but knowing my granddad, it'll be next December. He's stubborn like that," he chuckled humorlessly. "Just because I'll be almost eighteen then doesn't change a thing; he'll still be gone."

Gently, Orihime nodded and raked her fingers through his choppy black hair. "Why are you scared?" she asked.

"Granddad is all I have. I thought that was obvious," Ggio scoffed quietly.

"There." Poking his forehead, she clarified, "There's the lie. You have more than Barney. I'm not saying it won't be terrible to lose him, but you won't be alone. You'll have Lilynette." Ignoring his snort, she continued adamantly, "You'll have Nel. You'll have Szayel and Grimmjow and Yammy. None of them will let you face this on your own.

"No matter if we've found out who I am or not by then," she promised, taking both his hands in hers and staring firmly into his eyes, "I'll be here too. Even if I have to come from Germany or China, as soon as I hear if he's fading, I'll be here. I'll come for _you_, Ggio, and I won't leave until you accept you're not alone." A pain stabbed her heart and she realized, "I don't know how, but I know how you feel. I know what it's like to lose someone, although I don't know who. It's not easy, but you're stronger than you think you are."

When he didn't respond, Orihime smiled sadly, "It's not helping, is it?"

Biting his lip, Ggio shook his head. "Not much."

Getting to her feet, she urged, "Come on; up."

"What for?" he questioned, even though he did as she told him.

As soon as the teenager was on his feet, he was embraced by the amber-haired woman. Wordlessly, she held him tightly even as he began to shake again, releasing soundless sobs into her shoulder.

She didn't shush him or try to soothe him into silence, but merely held him because she knew that's what he needed. Not a word passed through her lips; no "it's okay," no "I'm here for you," because it wasn't okay, and words were empty while action spoke volumes.

Slowly, the tears ceased and his breathing evened. Still, though, his arms hung weakly at his sides with his knees knocking together, seeming one moment from collapsing.

"You're not a coward," Orihime assured softly. "You're not pathetic. There's no shame in being afraid of losing someone you love."

Silently, Ggio nodded.

"You okay?"

He shook his head no.

Sighing, she smiled and whispered, "I didn't think so." As she took his cheeks in her hands, she pledged, "Eventually, it'll be okay. Not now, maybe not next year, or the year after that, but eventually, you'll come to a place where you'll be able to remember him and _smile_. You hear me?"

Meeting her gaze for only a moment, he nodded again.

"The time he has is precious," she continued, "to both of you. All I can encourage you to do is make it memorable, 'kay?"

Another nod came in response.

"Good. You should get home; it'll be getting dark soon," she advised, wiping the tear streaks from his cheeks with her thumb. "See you tomorrow?"

Offering a weak smile, the teenager gave a final nod before pulling away. Hands hiding in his pockets, he turned and headed toward the door. Pausing, he glanced back. "I don't care what Ulquiorra says," he whispered. "No one could hate you unless they were totally insane." With that, he disappeared into the starting darkness.

After turning off the lights and closing the doors, Orihime headed back to the house on the hill. As expected, she found her host and his dog sitting on the porch, cigarette smoke in the air.

To her surprise, Ulquiorra murmured, "Good day?"

Sitting on the wicker couch, she replied, "Yeah. I think so." A long moment of soft silence passed. Finally: "Did you know that Barney has cancer?"

"In his liver; yes. Everyone knows." Perplexed, he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, asking, "Why?" She didn't reply, but looked down sadly at her lap. Immediately, he inquired, "You hear when?"

"A year – maybe more," Orihime shrugged. "Ggio's... beyond devastated."

"I'm sure," he muttered flatly.

Glaring at him, autumn eyes flaring, she questioned, "How can you be so heartless? A man you've known your whole life is _dying _and you don't even show the slightest sympathy!"

"Calm down," Ulquiorra ordered, returning her fiery stare with an icy one of his own. "I am not unsympathetic. I am merely accepting what must happen in the future."

"He's fought it off, you know."

"He's done admirably," the emerald-eyed man nodded, blowing a long stream of smoke. "However, everyone dies. Death is part of life."

Snorting, she mocked, "And because you're religious, you think everyone goes to a better place."

Lighting another smoke and inhaling deeply, the farmer contradicted in a murmur, "Not everyone."

Orihime eyed him suspiciously and remarked, "You keep doing that. That murmuring thing – you said that smoking and going to church were habits just like that. It was that tone exactly. What's with that?"

Suddenly irritated, Ulquiorra questioned, "So, what? Why do you care, girl?"

_Defense mechanism_, she realized. Backing off, she shrugged, "Because, I care about everyone."

Discontented, he grumbled and went back to smoking.

After another long moment, the amber-haired woman asked, "Ulquiorra?"

"What?" he nearly snapped.

"What did you want to be when you were little?" she inquired gently, staring at him intently. "Just curious."

Ulquiorra paused, glancing at her in surprise. Why would she ask such a pointless question? However, he couldn't deny that he _did_ recall what he had wanted. However, it didn't matter, and he said so.

"It does matter. It matters to me," was her reply. "Tell me. Please."

Reluctantly, he sighed, "As a child, I enjoyed classical music. I still do. However, I once desired to be a part of it; a pianist, to be specific."

"Why didn't you?" Orihime urged. She was awed that her host had ever actually wanted something for himself at some point in his life.

"We had neither the resources or time to go into the city for lessons," he explained simply. "It was an unattainable goal, so it was abandoned for more reasonable pursuits."

"Farming."

"Yes."

Frowning slightly, the young woman listened to the beat of his breathing and finally whispered, "That's too bad. You would've made a good pianist." She ignored his surprised glance, and she asked softly, "Why not do it now?"

"I don't have time," he repeated firmly, "and I told you, I like my life as it is."

Unable to stop herself, she scoffed, "Even with me invading upon your perfect world? You still like it even though you have to deal with me every day?"

Ulquiorra looked out upon the darkening world. "Despite what you think, I don't hate you." That single statement took her breath away, and he noticed it. "I do not like you, either, so don't go making assumptions. You are... tolerable. Annoying at times, but tolerable. Perhaps, even... pleasant, at times," he admitted tensely. To keep himself from saying anything more, he lit his fourth cigarette and stuck it in his mouth.

"You don't hate me? I'm _tolerable_?" She was amazed, touched, and shocked, and it showed in her voice and her eyes.

"I believe I made my stance clear," he replied shortly. "I said what I thought. It is up to you to accept it or not."

Orihime smiled brilliantly. With a clearly endearing tone, she giggled, "I don't hate you either. I... actually kind of like you, even – even though you're a meanie."

He did not reply. He did _not_ like her. He did not enjoy her company for the majority of the time, even as they sat there in the blissful silence, he had to admit to himself that she was pleasant in more than just the looks department. She was so mind-bogglingly loving that it... well, it boggled his mind.

"I'm going to bed," the young lady announced, standing. Leaning over and gazing sweetly at him, she smiled and bid softly, "Good night, Ulquiorra."

"Night," he murmured, waiting until she had pulled back to inhale and exhale from his cigarette. He watched her go back inside and shut the door quietly.

Glancing down at his dog, he sighed, "This isn't working, Marcy. I think she's growing on me."

As much as he hated to admit it, even to his dog, she was impossible to dislike, and she was slowly warming his heart. It was uncomfortable, and it was bound to get messy, but he had a bad feeling that they would come out of it calling each other "friend."

Finally, he stamped out the smoke beneath his boot and stood. "Come on. Bedtime, Marcy."

Before he retired, Ulquiorra found himself leaning against her doorframe and watching her sleep. The music from his mother's box filled his mind, and her breathing echoed in his ears. Closing his eyes, he sighed again and groaned quietly, "Good god, I wish I could hate you."

In response, she merely rolled over and giggled in her sleep.

"Damn sugar-coated, sunlight-filled woman."

He drank his coffee black and used sugar in almost nothing, and he always felt uncomfortable in the bright sunlight, and she was just as annoying as sweetened coffee and she created as intense of an itch as a blazing sunburn.

She was sweet and warm and air-headed and ditsy and giggly and happy – everything he usually disliked in people and the world itself.

Nonetheless, as much as he focused on those things, all he could feel for her was an increasing sense of reluctant affection. Glancing down at his dog, he whispered, "Do you like her, Marcy?"

The canine merely lolled her head and glanced up at the ceiling in her version of a shrug.

Again, he groaned and grumbled, "I was worried you were going to say that." With another sigh, he closed her door and trudged to bed, his loving pet prancing behind him.

* * *

**Reluctant affection... yeah~! XD**

**Love, Bunny-chan**


	8. Set Fire to My Heart

**Hey! I know I'm updating slowly on... everything... I have no excuse. **

**Thanks to 19Teardrop94, Kohryu, tek9cb, Hazama-Chan, JoeyHazelLM, BLEACHRULES64, Cerice Belle, meow, xxxPureRosexxx, Guest, lovely smile, InfinitySign, BeccaRomano, smylealong, Saiyuri Haruno, Zoe Whiteraven, ulquihime7980, and Rin Sessys Girl for reviewing!**

**If I didn't respond your review, I'm sorry. I kind of lost my list of who I had responded to, and the email that told me who had reviewed... I might've responded to all of your reviews for this story and forgotten, but if I didn't I'm sorry and I love you anyways and I won't lose my list this time!**

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**Tadaaaaah!**

* * *

The bell on the door jingled loudly as Orihime walked into the small, quaint general store. The kids were playing ball and Nelliel was discreetly napping in her chair, so she figured no one would miss her for a half hour or so.

She wandered through the rows of shelves covered with dried goods, boxed food, candy, and other such things, and shivered as she passed the coolers filled with dairy things.

The dim, greyish-brown paneling covering the walls still had flecks of the original, polished amber oak it had once been. Aside from the merchandise, everything in that little store seemed like something out of Little House on the Prairie.

"Barney?" the amber-haired woman called softly. "Barney, are you-"

A snort and a snore interrupted her.

Smiling, Orihime tiptoed to the counter. As expected, the old man sat with his arms crossed on the old wood, drooling into his sleeve. It was kind of cute, in a weird, old sort of way. After a moment's hesitation, she tapped the man gently on the shoulder. "Barney?"

Snorting again, the wrinkly shop owner sat up abruptly. "I-is a what, Ggio? Go play outside!" he barked gruffly, disoriented.

The autumn-eyed girl smiled and laughed, "It's okay, Barney. It's just Orihime. Ggio's at school."

"Hm?" Baraggan grunted, blinking at her. After a moment of getting his barrings, he grumbled, "G'morning."

"Afternoon, actually," Orihime corrected pleasantly. Concerned, she inquired, "How are you?"

The elder's eyes widened a bit. "Why'd y'ask that?" he questioned hoarsely.

Brown eyes filled with compassion, she shrugged, "Just wondering."

He glared at her suspiciously. Shifting in his wide seat, he huffed, "Fibber. Someone told'ya. I may be goin', but I'm not gone yet."

With a soft smile, Orihime nodded. "Yeah – Ggio told me the other day," she affirmed. Quietly, she also divulged, "He also told me you've been feeling worse lately."

Again, she had surprised him. "Told'ya all that, did he?" Barney muttered. "Damn – that's impressive, girly. I can barely get that punk to tell me diddly-squit these days."

"Really?" the young woman squeaked. "That's unexpected! Why wouldn't he tell you anything?"

Shrugging his stiff shoulders, the old man snorted, "It's a phase. My kid went through it too."

"Ggio's dad."

Baraggan nodded in affirmation. "Jason. Stubborn as hell, that kid," he scoffed nostalgically.

"Must've taken after his father," Orihime teased, smiling.

With a sharp laugh, the shop owner grunted, "His mom said that, too."

"Whose mom – Ggio's or Jason's?"

After a moment's thought, Barney chuckled rustily, "Both of them, actually."

Smiling sweetly, Orihime sighed and promised, "If you ever need anything, I'll be glad to help. If you need someone to talk to Ggio or if you need some help in the store – anything, really – I'll be here."

The old man eyed her skeptically. "A week and a half," he remarked quietly.

"Huh?" she peeped.

"You've only been here a week an' a half," Baraggan clarified, crossing his wrinkly arms, "and yet I've heard 'bout nothin' but you since y'got here from Ggio, Grimmjow, Nel – the whole lot."

With a giggle, the amber-haired woman admitted, "It's surprising to me, too. They... they've all accepted me into their lives so fully and easily so quickly. I don't know who I was before," she whispered, suddenly realizing profoundly, "but I don't think any life could've been better than this."

"You're a nice girl," the elder grumbled, leaning back in his seat. "It's hard not to like you. You wanna help everyone y'come across – who wouldn't like someone like that, huh?"

Blinking at him, Orihime mumbled, "I can't tell if you're complimenting me or not."

"Eh – me either," Baraggan grunted, picking his ear. Suddenly meeting her gaze, he grumbled, "What're we talkin' about?"

Humoring him, the young woman smiled and shrugged, "I forgot, too!" With a laugh, she took a step back and offered, "I'll leave you to your nap."

Barney chuckled as she skipped away, refuting, "I never nap on the job."

Contradictory to his statement, he was snoring by the time she left.

Upon returning to the school house, Orihime sat down on the creaking, splintering step and watched the children kick their precious soccer ball from one end of the dirt street to the other.

Remotely, she wondered if Ulquiorra had once been like that. She could just see him, all miniature and cute, competing against Grimmjow to get to the blue ball. She couldn't help but smile knowing that the old toy now lay beneath her bed where it was safe – a mark of her host's happier days.

It was odd to think of – Ulquiorra being happy. He was just so sad...

"Ah, Orihime! Good afternoon!"

Looking up, the amber-haired woman smiled brilliantly at the doctor. "Szayel! Hi! How are you?" she greeted.

"Well," the pinkie nodded, "and you?"

With a half-hearted laugh, she shrugged, "Oh, same-old same-old, I guess."

Szayel smiled gently and inquired, "Is that your way of telling me that you've not remembered a thing and I should just stop asking?"

Perplexed, Orihime hemmed, "Well, no, but... not originally, but yeah, I guess that is what it means."

Shaking his head, the pink-haired man sighed, "I'm sorry." He sat beside her, adjusting his latex gloves and murmuring, "I can't help wondering if I could've initially done something-"

"If you could've, I'm glad you didn't." It came out without a single thought, but it was completely true. "The more I'm here, the more I don't want to leave," she whispered with a smile.

The doctor glanced at her, surprised. "Orihime, I've told you once already that you need to abandon any hope of staying here forever," he reminded firmly. "A notice is bound to come up soon, and Yammy has been watching the missing persons memos meticulously."

"It's been over a week," the autumn-eyed woman scoffed softly. "Don't you report a person missing after twenty-four hours?"

"Usually," Szayel nodded. Treading carefully, he suggested, "Perhaps you were on your way to something. Perhaps you were going on vacation and not expected back for a time."

With hopefulness instead of bitterness, she countered, "Or perhaps no one in my former life cares that I'm gone."

The doctor paused. Finally, he began earnestly, "Orihime-"

"What do you believe in, Szayel?" she whispered, gazing into his gold eyes. "I've asked a few people these past days, and they all say something similar – their friends, their family, God. What do you believe in?"

Although he was confused, Szayel replied cautiously, "I believe in the fragility of the human body, and that I have been endowed with the skill and the will to strengthen it. Like many others, I believe in my friends – those I have known and trusted since my first memory," he explained rather scientifically.

Thoughtfully, he continued, "On a certain, intellectual level, I believe that there _may_ be an all-powerful God. My thoughts of a deity are not as passionate or well-informed as the reverends... in fact, I believe the belief in God is not my own, but merely one I was raised in, but there is a possibility. I prefer my encyclopedias to a bible, but nonetheless..." Trailing off, he turned his gaze to her and inquired, "Why?"

Looking forward and smiling softly at the children, she explained, "Ulquiorra told me that he believes in nothing. He's not passionate about anything – he doesn't really care about what he does or the people he's with. It... it just got me thinking about what _I_ believe."

Gently, Szayel asked, "What _do_ you believe?"

Orihime couldn't help but grin as she whispered, "This place is beautiful. Whether it was a blessing, fate, destiny, or whatever that brought me here, to leave forever would break my heart." Before he could interrupt, she continued passionately, "The people here have shared their hearts and their lives with me. I... despite the fact I can't remember, I'm sure that no one has ever given me something so precious," she professed, smiling in amazement at the doctor. "I believe in all of you."

Confused, the pink-haired man questioned, "What is the importance of this?"

After a pause, she smiled in relief and sighed, "He doesn't hate me. He told me the other night – he doesn't hate me, and he actually finds me... pleasant sometimes."

Choking on his own breath, Szayel scoffed, "Ulquiorra said that?"

"Yeah, he did." Sincerely, Orihime whispered mostly to herself, "I want to believe in something for him. If he can't do it himself, I want to do it for him. Living without a hope or a dream or anyone or anything to drive you forward..." Trailing off, she gazed down at her hands and remarked, "That's not living. That's existing in monotony day after day without any meaning. It's... it's nothingness."

"No," the doctor corrected incredulously, "that's Ulquiorra."

"No. It's not," the autumn-eyed girl countered. Shaking her head, she reminded, "He used to smile. Nel told me. He used to laugh, too. He used to have a dream."

"Used to," the gold-eyed man agreed. "All that is gone now. He's given up on all of it; you should know this. You live with him."

Smiling confidently, Orihime glanced at the brilliant blue sky and murmured, "And yet he still loves classical music."

"Classical – are you sure you haven't hit your head again?" Szayel questioned skeptically. Adamant, he persisted, "Ulquiorra is... he is the embodiment of emptiness."

"I'll try to fill him then," she mumbled, closing her eyes peacefully.

Surprised, the pinkie insisted, "He does not want comfort or help."

"I don't care. He's gettin' it."

Logically, the doctor argued, "He will not accept it, Orihime, no matter how you pursue it. He may not hate you, but he most certainly doesn't like you – or anyone, for that matter."

With a musical giggle, Orihime grinned at her friend and countered, "But _I_ like _him_. As much of a jerk as he is, I like spending time with him. I like our little arguments and I like that little wrinkle in his nose he gets when I annoy him. I like him," she repeated, shrugging, "and eventually, it's gonna rub off on him. He may not believe in me, Szayel," she whispered adamantly, "but I believe in him."

Szayel pulled his legs up and rested his chin on his knees, obviously thinking. Eventually, he sighed, deciding to change the topic and smirking, "Sunday, I was talking to some of us before the meeting." With a bright, teasing glance, he remarked, "So far, Ulquiorra is the only one who isn't in love with you yet."

Blushing, the amber-haired woman fussed, "Oh, I'm sure no one's 'in love' with me. I like everyone just fine, and I'm glad to hear the feeling is mutual, but..." Uncomfortable from the radiating heat from her cheeks, she squealed, "Please, don't tease me like that! It's embarrassing!"

Amused, the doctor smirked, "But it's just so easy to make you blush, and you're so cute while you do."

Covering her cheeks with her palms, Orihime protested, "Szayel, stop it! My face is going to explode!" When he chuckled, she felt her entire face heat up and turn cherry red. Under her breath, she muttered, "You're almost as mean as Ulquiorra, butthead."

"Butthead?" Szayel echoed. Confused, and yet moments away from laughing, he inquired, "Don't you think that's a bit of a childish insult?"

Blinking her big brown eyes at him, she shrugged and murmured, "No, not really. It bugs Ulquiorra enough, so why not use it?"

With a smile, the medical man remarked, "It's so... intriguing how your relationship is developing. It's not quite siblings, nor is it anything romantic whatsoever, but-"

"We're housemates," the amber-haired woman shrugged. "It's as simple as that." Grinning, she scoffed and remarked, "I can't believe that he finds me... tolerable. This entire time, he's done nothing but mock me and tease me mercilessly, and yet... here we are."

"You are impossible not to like, Orihime," assured the doctor, standing. "Even Ulquiorra will have to accept that." With that, he nonchalantly strolled away.

Smiling to herself, she repeated in her mind, _I seriously love this town_.

Immediately after school ended and the chapel was cleaned, Orihime bid warm goodbyes to her friends and headed home. The old red truck rattled as it faithfully carried her up the hill to the old house.

To her surprise, as soon as she exited the car, the black dog barked from her seat on the porch in greeting. Turning her brown eyes to the canine, the young woman smiled and called, "Hi, Marcy!"

Marcy flashed a toothy grin and wagged her tail blissfully.

_Never gonna like me, huh?_ Orihime thought triumphantly, although she had no desire to try and pet the dog and get her hand bitten off.

"Ulquiorra!" Kicking off her shoes, she scampered into the living room. Finding the area vacant, she again called his name and peeked into the kitchen. Perplexed, she shouted up the stairway, "Ulquiorra! You here?"

Upon receiving no response, the amber-haired girl checked the grandfather clock in the living room, only to find that she (for once) had over an hour before he would usually return.

_That explains why he wasn't waiting for me, _she realized. It was kind of exciting – she had never been home before Ulquiorra before! Now, she could...

Disappointed, Orihime murmured, "Oh, right... I don't do anything." Leaning against the wall, she tapped her chin thoughtfully and thought aloud, "Seriously, though... what do I do? What _should_ I do? I mean, he does everything," she mused, crossing her arms, "so... what _could_ I do? There's nothing to clean – he keeps everything so tidy. I've already read the only interesting book he owns, and all there is to watch on TV are Loony Toons and Star Trek!" she huffed discontentedly. Why was everything in the house entirely out of the mid-nineteenth century?

Mentally, she listed, _Can't clean, can't read, can't watch TV, can't cook... _Eyes widening, she suddenly exclaimed, "That's it! I can make dinner! Ah!" Bouncing and clapping, she squealed, "Oh my Tōsen, I'm a genius!"

As she cheerily skipped into the kitchen, she recalled his initial instruction – if she was to use the kitchen, she had to clean it _completely_, or bad things would happen. He was such a finicky goose...

Browsing through the cupboards, she wondered what she should make. What did Ulquiorra like, anyways? Well, he liked meat – she knew that much. However, as she had remembered, she had never made any food before. Yet again, she remembered nothing, so for all she knew she was a master chef!

In the cupboard above the sink, Orihime found a lone, dusty, tan, and seemingly ancient cookbook. The name had been completely worn off, but as she flipped through it, she found that every single page had been highlighted, edited, an annotated in a neat, but curly and feminine handwriting that was most surely not Ulquiorra's. She had seen his – his was way too straight and... bricky.

Carefully, she studied the cookbook. Whoever had owned it must have cooked every single recipe at least ten times to have made the sophisticated notes they did. Measurements were adjusted, ingredients were substituted, cooking times were pinpointed down to the _second_ in certain recipes, and each page had cute little hearts on the top which she assumed were ratings. Most recipes had been tweaked to a three-and-a-half heart rating, but a few were lower, a few were four hearts, and only one recipe out of the entire book had endless hearts doodled upon it.

"'Miny-strong-ee,'" the amber-haired woman enunciated slowly. Despite the odd-sounding name, why would anyone draw a million hearts on a page if the food wasn't good. There was also a number drawn in the bottom corner, which she discovered was an accompanying recipe for cornbread which had almost been completely rewritten. Unsure, she murmured, "Well, I dunno if I can... or if I should, but... Ah, heck! There's hearts all over the page – I'll do it."

Over the next hour, Orihime chopped and sauteed veggies, inspected the cookbook, meticulously measured spices, reread the instructions, mixed the bowl of yellow batter to perfection, and checked the recipe about fifteen more times.

As the soup was making and the bread was baking, she turned around and suddenly noticed that the entire room was a horrible mess. Little pieces of unused vegetable were strewn on the floor, she had splattered batter on the top of the cupboard door somehow, and every utensil she had used lay strewn about the counters. _Tasmanian devil much? _she thought, groaning, "Fine. I'll clean the stupid kitchen."

Scrubbing, scraping, washing, sweeping, moping, and a few frustrated screams ensued, like, "Stupid yellow sticky spot of doom, why are you so _stuck_? !" and "Holy Tōsen, that knife is sharp!" and "Where are all the stupid bandaids in this stupid house of stupidness? !"

After scraping the cupboard door with a knife, impaling her thumb with said knife, and finally finding a stupid bandaid in the most stupidly logical place for a stupid bandaid to be (the bathroom medicine cabinet), she checked the time instructions in the book, the food, and the window.

As if on cue, the pale man emerged from the barn and started heading for the house.

Checking the timer, Orihime realized in horror that the food still needed to cook for five minutes and fourteen seconds! "Dang it!" she squealed. After a moment of running in an awkward circle, she called in panic, "Marcy! Distract him for me!"

Another few seconds passed before she realized that she was talking to a _dog_, and that there was no way a _dog_ could possibly understand her. Glancing into the hallway, she also realized that she had been right, since the shaggy canine merely sat there looking happy.

"Darn you!" she huffed, accusing, "You do everything Ulquiorra tells you! Why won't you do it for me? !"

To her surprise, those soulless black eyes gave her an incredulous look as if to say, "_Oh, no, you di-in't_!"

"Oh, yes, I di-id!" Orihime instinctively sassed back. After another moment, she sighed and groaned, "My Tōsen, this is crazy."

The door opened, revealing the tired-looking, black-haired farmer.

Squeaking softly, Orihime hid against the wall. Carefully, she peeked out into the open hallway and watched her host intently.

She had never noticed it before, but he didn't just kick off his boots. Instead, he knelt down and untied them before removing them and placing them in their mud-marked place. With a sigh, he stood, rolled his shoulders, cracked his knuckles, and actually _smiled_ at his pet.

His smile... it was a lot like his smirk, but less mean. It was just the slightest twitch of his lips that brought the right corner up. She could've even described it as... gentle. That couldn't be right, though – Ulquiorra was rude and annoying and mean. Very little about him was gentle.

However, as he crouched down and mussed his dog's fur, scratched her ears, and pet her affectionately, the amber-haired girl couldn't help but wonder if he was only a jackass around _her_ for some reason...

Finishing greeting his pet, the emerald-eyed man stood. Unexpectedly, he pulled his sweaty shirt over his head... both of them, which left his top half completely exposed.

_Oh. My. Tōsen. I think I might die!_ Orihime mentally screeched, her cheeks tinting cherry. She knew it was stupid and kind of wrong to keep standing there staring at his naked torso, but she couldn't tear her wide brown eyes from his corded, compact pectorals, his firm, lithe arms, or his tight, flat abdomen leading down to his narrow hips. It was like someone had taken Grimmjow's endless muscle-y-ness and squished it down to fit in a tinier body!

Raking his fingers through his shaggy, longish raven hair, Ulquiorra grumbled to his dog, "I'll be in the shower. Don't go into the rabbit hutch while I'm not looking."

Nonetheless, the young woman didn't hear a word and merely focused on the messy strands of his hair that brushed over his strong shoulders.

With that, he headed toward the stairs, but not before glancing in her direction. After meeting her eyes for a split second, he ascended.

_A~and the cruel smirk is back_, Orihime thought, frowning and inching back toward the oven. One minute he was all nice (to his dog, but still), and the next he had to go and be all mean again!

Half a second later, she realized that the fact he smirked at her must've meant he knew she was there, which meant he had probably known she was staring, which meant-!

A sudden burning sensation brought her out of her thoughts and she screeched, jumping away from the stove. In her thought, she had actually rested her hand on the stove... and, on a similar note, in the fire beneath the minestrone.

The timer rang loudly. Despite her pain, Orihime managed to turn off the flame, put on hot-pads, and retrieve the cornbread from the oven. Afterwards, she released a quiet cry of pain and hurriedly stuck her stinging hand beneath a stream of freezing cold water.

Ten minutes later, that was how Ulquiorra found her – whimpering pathetically with her hand in the sink. Now dressed in a white t-shirt and a pair of clean jeans, he ruffled his own damp hair and tentatively inched into his kitchen. To his surprise, it wasn't completely demolished.

Taking heed of her sniffling, the raven-haired man grabbed a dishtowel, broke several ice cubes out of their form, and momentarily disrupted his host's flow of relief to wet the towel. "Give me your hand," he instructed lowly.

Intimidated (and still embarrassed), Orihime held out her shaking, smarting hand to his inspection. She tensed when his pale fingers encircled her wrist, but she couldn't help but relax a little bit when he applied the wetted ice to her flaming red, sore skin.

"What the hell did you do to yourself?" Ulquiorra questioned after a moment, seeming irritated.

Sheepishly, the amber-haired woman apologized, "Sorry."

"I wasn't berating you; I was asking you something," the emerald-eyed man clarified shortly. "What happened?"

Why was he so snippy? She watched as he stared intently at her hand, adjusting the ice to the reddest spots occasionally, but otherwise doing nothing. Suddenly, she realized how tense his hand around her wrist was, though he seemed to be trying not to tighten his grip. Why would _he_ be tense?

"Well?" he prompted, glancing into her eyes before returning his gaze to her hand. "What happened?"

Ashamed of her air-headed-ness, Orihime blushed and murmured, "I stuck my hand in the fire."

Snorting, Ulquiorra inquired, "Why the hell would you do that? You don't have some masochistic psychosis, do you? Because I'm not going to be legally responsible for you," he mocked.

"No, I don't have a... that thing you said!" the young woman refuted adamantly. "I just wasn't paying attention, butthead!"

Moving the ice to the crimson center of her palm, the pale farmer sighed, "Why was the stove even on?"

Simply, she replied, "I made dinner. Can't you smell it?" Gasping, she squeaked, "Do you not have a sense of smell? !"

Annoyed, he retorted, "Of course, I do. 'What's that smell' was going to be my next question, Miss Paranoia." As the ice began to melt, dripping water onto the floor, he grumbled, "Do I dare ask what you made?"

Grinning, she answered proudly, "I made miny-strong-y!"

"It's pronounced 'miny-stron-y.' There is no 'g'," Ulquiorra corrected, his tone impatient. With a scoff, he taunted, "Made from a can, no doubt?"

Insulted, Orihime huffed, "No! Made from a recipe!"

Emerald eyes look up at her in confusion and surprise. "Recipe?" he echoed, perplexed. "From where, or from who? Nel?"

"From your cookbook," she shrugged.

The raven-haired man muttered, "I don't own a cookbook."

"Sure, you do!" the young woman beamed, nodding. "In the cupboard above the sink! That's where I found it, anyways... See?" Reaching across the counter, she grabbed the old book and showed it to him. "Cookbook! See?"

His eyes widened for only a moment before he glared at her hand. "Oh. I forgot about that one," he murmured. Before she could say anything more, he asked, "How does it feel?"

After a moment of confusion, Orihime realized he was talking about her burn. Smiling at his sweet consideration, she assured, "It feels better, but it still stings a little."

"Yeah, well, what do you want me to do about it," Ulquiorra questioned with a hint of annoyance, "kiss it better?"

Blushing crimson, the amber-haired girl stuttered, "No! Wh-what could've p-possibly even made you t-think that? !" Nonetheless, the implication did bring back the mental image of him standing topless in the entryway. Her face felt explodable.

"I was being sarcastic," the pale man grunted. Scoffing, he challenged, "You actually thought I would even if you asked?"

Not answering, Orihime noticed that he hadn't looked her in the eye but twice, and he was still incredibly tense. What did he have to be tense about? He was obviously the alpha here – surely, she couldn't possibly be intimidating him. He was the one who had teased her, so he couldn't be upset at her. Now, after the cookbook thing, he seemed even more tense and irritated.

What was it about all these different things that bugged him? What about smoking could upset him? What about a church he had attended his whole life could make him so sadly nostalgic? Why did talking about his lack of belief made him all droopy? Also, what was so important about a stinkin' cookbook?

Why could he possibly be annoyed with _her_ specifically? She hadn't done anything to him today except look at him shirtless and make dinner for him. That was what started it all, as far as she knew.

"Hm. The ice melted," Ulquiorra remarked, interrupting her thoughts.

Trying and failing to meet his emerald gaze, Orihime averred, "It's okay. My hand feels better now, thanks."

Finally, the farmer released her wrist. Hanging the cloth on the fridge door, he glanced apprehensively at the stove and grumbled, "I guess we should try your culinary creation before it gets cold..."

"It'll be good! There were fifty million hearts all over the page, so it ought to be good!" the brown-eyed woman grinned, already advancing with a plate and a bowl.

He watched her cautiously as she took the first taste of her soup. Mentally, he recited Szayel's phone number in the likely case she fell down, poisoned. Somehow, this woman had the ability to mess anything and everything up...

Eyes brightening, the houseguest exclaimed, "This is delicious! Holy crap!" Giddy, she turned to the farmer and urged, "It's good! Really! Eat some!"

Either it was actually good, or she was planning to kill him.

Reluctantly deciding to trust her, Ulquiorra took the bowl she offered him. For a long moment, he stirred the soup, looking for anything that might be evil (like dragon scales or eye of newt or something). Finding nothing particularly suspicious, he lifted the spoon to his lips under her excited gaze.

It... wasn't poisonous.

In fact, as he stared down at the bowl of minestrone, he resisted being thrown into a flashback. It had been a monthly (sometimes weekly) occurrence when minestrone had been served, considering it had been his mother's favorite meal to make.

As much as he hated to admit it or acknowledge it, his grinning, amber-haired guest had made it just as _she_ had... perhaps even better.

Forcing the painful nostalgia back into its locked, dark closet, Ulquiorra nodded at the young woman and affirmed, "It's good."

With that, she utterly beamed, grabbed a cornbread muffin, and skipped outside.

Somewhat reluctant, the emerald-eyed man followed. Sitting in his rocking chair, he ate slowly, watching the young woman curiously. She seemed utterly content to just sit on the wicker couch and eat. How could anyone be so content doing something so simple?

The day grew old and Orihime set down her dishes to look at the gold sky. Smiling, she peeked over at her host's bowl and asked in confusion, "Why aren't you eating the zucchini?"

Unbeknownst to her, her question wasn't an unfamiliar to him. Ulquiorra looked toward her (but not directly _at_ her) before staring back at his mostly-empty bowl and remarking, "I do not enjoy the texture of stewed zucchini."

"But it's good for you!" the amber-haired damsel protested.

"I do not like it, girl. I have made that clear," he retorted. "This is my house. I will eat what I wish."

Frowning, the young woman huffed and grumbled, "Fine... grumpy-pants."

"For your information, your name-calling does not make you any more attractive or entertaining," Ulquiorra stated coldly, shooting her a short glare.

Red-faced and offended, Orihime sassed, "Well, at least I'm attractive _at all _to begin with!" Picking up her dishes, she stormed inside.

As she dropped her dishes into the old, cream dishwasher, she admitted that her retort had been a low blow, as well as a lie. Her self-declared intention was to build him up, not tear him down further. Also, as much as she didn't want to say it, he wasn't bad looking whatsoever. In fact, he was sort of cute in his own, grumpy way. Not like he was super-hot or anything... well, he kind of was, but...

Suddenly, she realized why he had avoided her gaze so much that night. He had known she was home, but he hadn't known she was in the kitchen. He always made dinner – he must've assumed she was in her room.

He was embarrassed.

The realization was revolutionary. Ulquiorra was embarrassed that she had seen him topless. His cocky little smirk was just a coverup – he was really, really embarrassed.

As he was so fond of saying, before she had moved in, there hadn't been a woman in the house for twenty years. Undoubtedly, he had never had to be concerned with modesty, and old habits die hard. He hadn't expected her to be watching, and he was embarrassed – maybe even a little insecure. She couldn't imagine that many (if any) other people had seen him shirtless, so how could he know how amazing he looked?

Shocked and ashamed at her discovery, Orihime vehemently scolded herself within her own mind. _I am such a jerk!_ she berated. Plopping down onto the bottom step, she curled up in a fetal position and knocked her forehead against her knees. _Stupid, stupid, stupid! Stupid temper, stupid big-mouth, stupid stupidness! _she yelled internally, feeling quite miserable because of her rash rudeness. She had probably prodded a sore spot (he had so many of them), and he was probably out there stewing and plotting her demise. How could she possibly make amends?

After sitting there for a good minute and thinking of absolutely nothing, she huffed and decided to just stay there and wait for him to come in so she could apologize.

The world darkened further, and pink and gold streamed through the windows. The young woman sat and waited silently, listening to the sound of his steady and heavy inhales and exhales.

It wasn't until silver moonlight illuminated the house that he finished smoking and came back inside. In the shadows, he deposited his dishes in the dishwasher, stored the leftovers, and headed for the stairs.

However, Ulquiorra didn't notice the sleeping amber-haired girl on the bottom step until he nearly tripped over her. He wasn't quite sure why he hadn't seen her before, what with her hair glowing like a fiery blaze of brilliant sunlight, but perhaps he hadn't wanted to see her.

One moment, she was perfect – beautiful, silent, and sweet, reminding him in all ways of the happiest time of his life – and the next she was pounding a sledgehammer into his pride and confidence. He admitted that sometimes his ego needed deflating, but he had always lacked self-assurance. In a way, she was helping, but in yet a completely different way she had the ability to wound him more than he had thought possible.

As he leaned against the door and slid to the floor to sit across from her, he was shocked at how much power she held over him. Although he still hadn't become accustomed to living with someone else (as he had fully proven to himself today), it was surprising how much of what he did depended on her.

How much food he made, how often he did laundry, what he thought about in the evenings – it had all changed when she had come into his life. His Sunday conversation with Grimmjow had gone past the blunette's miserable life – it had been about Orihime entirely. He knew that the way Nelliel treated him from now on would depend on what Orihime told her over the week, too. The children, he assumed from the past Sunday, would begin to speak to him more often, as well.

As he came home, he would wonder what she had done and what she would ramble about that night. Also, when he had seen the truck in the front yard, he had been surprised, as well as... glad. Whether he was glad she would be there to greet him or if he was glad she would be there for him to make fun of, he wasn't sure.

Everything was changing... and Ulquiorra was beginning to enjoy the ride.

Crouching in front of the young woman, he looked into her peaceful face and sighed. _She just __lost her temper_, he told himself. _Besides_, he realized as her lips twitched into a smile, _I can't stay mad at her... even though I want to._

Sighing again, the emerald-eyed man hesitantly brushed his fingertips over her cheek. "Girl," he whispered. She stirred, but her eyes remained closed. "It is time to sleep. You need to go upstairs."

Groggy, her big brown eyes blinked at him. Half-unconscious, she sluggishly held out her arms and requested in a murmur, "Carry me like a princess."

Her sleepy demand barely surprised him. Nonetheless, he slipped one arm behind her shoulders, the other beneath her knees, and lifted her up. He wasn't sure why she liked being carried like this, but it disturbed him that he was becoming accustomed to it.

Unexpectedly, her arms wrapped lightly around him and her head rested on his shoulder as he toted her up the stairs. He admitted it – she was warm and beautiful and it felt wonderful when she snuggled close to him. It was odd, too, as no one had ever done such a thing to him before, but it was nice.

Cautious, he laid her in her bed and watched as she subconsciously pulled the blankets over herself.

Again, Orihime blinked at him sleepily. Propping herself up on her elbow, she mumbled, "M'sorry. I was jerky. Turkey jerky!" she giggled, sinking into her pillow. When he didn't reply, she yawned, "M'really sorry. You're not unattractive." Her eyes drifted closed, but before darkness overtook her, she smirked, "You're cute and hunky. Hunky monkey!" With a final crazy giggle, she drifted into dreamland.

Ulquiorra watched her with steady emerald eyes. Aside from her apology, he completely dismissed everything she had said in her sleepy state as none of it could be taken seriously. Nonetheless, he felt somewhat consoled.

He moved to leave, but the redness of her hand caught his eye. It was a glaring crimson against her flawless skin, much like the line of stitches on her forehead. No doubt, tomorrow Szayel would have a fit over it and prescribe her some sort of ointment to make it heal faster.

A single thought crossing Ulquiorra's mind caused him to tense in terror and shock, and momentarily afterwards, he fled the room.

He had been taunting her, but he really would've kissed her burn if she had asked him to.

* * *

**SQUEE.**

**There's gonna be a bit of a time skip. I'll give a overview of what happened during that time, but this is moving far too slowly for my liking. I did a day-by-day story before, and that crashed and burned in a bloody, blazing mass of guts and melting dreams. So... yeah.**

**Review if y'wanna, if you don't, s'cool. Either way, have a nice life!**

**Love, Bunny-chan**


	9. White Lies

**Yes. I am back.**

**I assure all y'all, I'm not dead. I am just very, very overwhelmed and I took far, far too many classes this semester. Therefore, I apologize for the inconvenience of me not updating often, but I appreciate that you've all been graceful.**

**Thanks to sarilka, Luma (who reminded me that I hadn't updated in months, so thank you), Guest1, aoa1012, . .Sakura, harpero3o, TheCatWithTheHat, Hazama-Chan, tek9cb, xxxPureRosexxx, Guest2, Kohryu, Lady Miel Cacao, EvilxLittlexNinja, Rin Sessys Girl, InfinitySign, BLEACHRULES64, ulquihime7980, Cerice Belle, 19Teardrop94, lovely smile, heygurlhey, smylealong, and BeccaRomano for reviewing! :D**

**The song I listened to repeatedly during my writing of this was _Soldier_, by Gavin DeGraw. *hearts***

**Okaydone.**

* * *

After that first week, the days began to blend together into one endless moment in Orihime's own personal paradise. Soon, she noticed a pattern emerging from her days; days that brought a smile to her lips at every thought.

Weekdays, she awoke to the sound of her alarm clock, dressed herself and brush her hair, and ate the breakfast Ulquiorra would leave for her. Once she finished her hygiene routine, she followed his post-it notes (if there were any that day) into the truck and headed down to the old church.

Upon arriving, she was immediately surrounded by the children of the town. Her days were spent helping with math problems, spelling, other questions, and solving the occasional squabble. Sometimes, she even played soccer during lunch, but more often than not she simply kept score (to avoid an argument between the captains).

If she didn't stay for supper with Nelliel and Nnoitra, Orihime returned home all a glitter. It had quickly became a competition between her and Ulquiorra; whoever was home first made dinner. The goal of the competition wasn't to get home first, but rather to get home last, and to therefore not to be the one to make food.

That remained so until Orihime started "experimenting" with the recipes in his mother's cookbook. By "experimenting," he figured she meant "poisoning."

The first time, she added an entire half a container of cayenne pepper to the chilli. He assumed it was an accident and went about drinking fifteen glasses of icy water while she consumed it giddily. The second time, when she took Nelliel's suggestion to use tofu instead of meat, he decided she was utterly insane.

When she actually followed the recipe, her cooking was marvelous. Otherwise, Ulquiorra firmly decided it tasted like some animal had crawled into the dish, died, and festered for a month.

Nonetheless, she enjoyed every single one of her abnormal meals. It made him doubt her sanity at times...

He had told her the third time she had murdered dinner that unless she followed the recipe, she was not to cook. The woman had pouted, and he had almost allowed her to have her way, but for the sake of his stomach, he had stood firm. He found himself making supper more often after that.

Saturdays and Sundays retained the pattern almost exactly, aside from the fact that Orihime's entire day was spent with Nelliel, at the bar talking to everyone she came across, or trailing after Ulquiorra. She found that she and Menoli got along quite well (then again, Orihime got along with everyone), despite the blonde woman's short temper. Ulquiorra had off-handedly compared it to his and Grimmjow's relationship – convenient and workable at times, but weird and kind of crazy all together.

Every day was quiet and contented, aside from minor arguments between the amber-haired girl and her host. However, she noticed that every time, she would end up laughing to diffuse the situation, whatever they had been fighting about would be unimportant, or one of them would end up reluctantly apologizing to the other.

Throughout it all, Orihime observed and decided that Ulquiorra remained fully the same, aside from the fact that after the "incident" he had become more conscious about the fact that he wasn't constantly alone in his house. His emerald eyes still stared at her with the same amount of impassiveness as ever, his responses remained concise, he avoided her whenever possible, and his patience with her was as short as ever.

Little did she know that Ulquiorra spent his most sleepless nights leaning against her wall. She had no idea that those same emerald eyes that looked at her so emotionlessly during the day were filled with something even Ulquiorra didn't understand as he watched her sleep.

Constantly, he mulled over old memories that she uncovered daily. He wanted nothing more but to bury his past in its dark grave within his mind, but her endless light did nothing but expose it. As miserable and painful it was to be around her at such times, the more time they spent together, the more he enjoyed her company.

As the others said, she as impossible to dislike.

True, she did test the limits of his tolerance, but his tolerance was low to begin with. After the first two weeks, he had reluctantly accepted that she was good for him in an odd, deathly annoying sort of way.

–

A month had passed. An entire month since she had been found had zipped by, Orihime noted as she looked at her calendar (the kids had made it for her during craft time one day, and each month had a drawing of theirs attached to it). It was Sunday, September fourth – four weeks from the day she had woken up in the little town. The day was even decorated with all sorts of glittery stickers to mark the occasion.

After dressing herself, the young woman hurried downstairs. The sounds and smells of sizzling bacon and bubbling pancakes filled her senses, and she nearly tripped down the final three steps in her excitement. Squeaking, she barely avoided crashing into the front door.

Turning, the amber-haired woman caught her host looking at her out of the corner of his eye, the right side of his mouth twitching up slightly and his emerald gaze amused. Neither surprised or annoyed that she had spotted his expression, he turned back to the bacon.

"Good morning, Ulquiorra!" she greeted. Lolling her head at him, she asked, "What'cha makin'?"

Without meeting her gaze, he grumbled, "It's rather odd how you ask that when you know exactly what I'm making."

A beaming grin spread over her lips, and she shrugged, "I like hearing you say it."

As his guest ambled over to the table to sit, Ulquiorra glanced at her. Unlike her odd taste buds that had tried to kill him more than once, her fashion sense never ceased to offer him something new and pleasant to look at.

Today, her long, amber hair had been spun into a bun with a long strand of hair coming out of the center, much like Princess Leia's hair in the end of _A New Hope_, but without the braiding (the fact he knew that only supported Grimmjow's accusations that he was a geek). On her ears, she wore the clip-on earrings Nina had made for her. They were just gold, glittery pom-poms glued to the earring clips, but he noticed that she tended to wear them almost every day.

Her head aside, she had donned a bright green, shallow-v-neck, fitted t-shirt and a denim skirt that rested just past her knees when she sat (he was disappointed and grateful for the fact at the same time. On one hand, he liked her legs. On the other, if he wasn't tempted to look, she wouldn't catch him).

He couldn't help but let his gaze wander over the graceful curve of her neck, the rosy, smooth skin of her cheeks, and the soft, somehow perfectly pink flesh of her lips.

It was a miracle she hadn't caught him staring yet. He even caught himself sometimes, and yet she never seemed to notice.

When a hot drop of bacon grease popped out of the pan and onto his arm, Ulquiorra averted his gaze from her with a quiet, pained curse.

Alarmed, her warm, autumn eyes looked up from the table and she peeped, "What is it? Are you o-"

"I'm fine."

Unconvinced, Orihime began to stand and questioned, "Are you-"

"I'm sure," he interrupted, ignoring her imploring stare. "Sit down."

Pouting, the young woman did as she was told with an unhappy huff. He knew full well she had only wanted to help... probably. Maybe he just didn't want her to worry... nah – he was just being a grumpy-pants.

Actually, he really didn't want her to worry, but that was just because he didn't want to deal with her, so she was technically correct.

When Ulquiorra set the plate of bacon and pancakes food before her, he could tell her anger was instantly forgotten. She smiled at him, and his heart stopped for a moment.

It had taken to doing that – his heart skipping a beat, that is. It happened infrequently – only once or twice... a day. He was becoming accustomed to the sudden punch in the gut whenever she gave him that grin. It also happened whenever they were sitting on the porch and she would smile, her hair glowing like embers in the sunset light and her eyes shining like a live flame.

A month had done quite a bit to him. As much as he hated to admit it, he didn't dislike everything she inspired in him. Being around her brought about a warmth he hadn't felt for ages... nineteen years and several months, to be more precise. Aside from that, she mostly just filled his days with a constant sense of annoyance at her... everything.

Thankfully for them both, by now, Orihime had learned that he never made conversation while driving. The last time they had been talking (arguing) in the car, he had driven into a cornfield (thankfully, it had been his field, and they had just caught a single row of corn, but he was still mad at her). As they trekked down the hill that day, she allowed him his silence and merely watched the cornstalks go by.

Happier than a raccoon in a garbage can (as Nnoitra would say), the amber-haired girl leapt out of the car as soon as it stopped. Squealing like a giddy pig (also a Nnoitra saying), she raced across the road and picked up the unsuspecting Hispanic girl. Nina screamed and giggled as the amber-haired woman tickled, squeezed, snuggled, and kissed her in greeting.

Dordoni paused in his conversation with the doctor to figure out why his daughter was screeching. As soon as he spotted the grin on the little girl's face, a sentimental, but still genuinely happy smile spread over his own lips. Without comment, he went back to talking with the pink-haired man.

Ulquiorra knew exactly what that look had meant. He assumed that Orihime knew nothing of it, but Nina's mother had died. Soon after Nina's second birthday, her mother had gone out for a day by herself to hike the bluffs. She had fallen, hit her head, gone into a coma, and died less than twenty-four hours later from a brain hemorrhage in Szayel's clinic.

Nina undoubtedly had no memory of her mother, and she never seemed to notice that she even lacked one what with all the time Nelliel devoted to her. With Nelliel's baby on the way, it was obviously assuring to Dordoni that Nina would still have a feminine presence to look up to even when Nel was busy with her child.

Being a realist, Ulquiorra had to add, _It'll work, until we find out who she is and she leaves, that is_.

Nonetheless, for the time being, even he had to admit that it was nice to see everyone so happy. The fact she had caused this town-wide happiness didn't surprise him in the least, either.

Grabbing his black Bible from under his seat, he made his way across the dirt road and up the creaking old steps. He took his seat in the back of the chapel, knowing full well that she would follow when she was done greeting everyone and brightening their day.

"Good morning, Ulquiorra," Tōsen greeted as he emerged from his office.

The fact that the blind man knew it was him didn't even come as a surprise anymore. "Reverend," the emerald-eyed man returned respectfully.

"Where is Miss Orihime?" the dark-skinned preacher inquired.

"Playing with Nina," Ulquiorra answered.

A small smile flitted over the reverend's lips. "The Lord is good," he sighed. "To see how He works the world for the greatest outcome is one of the most wonderful blessings."

The pale farmer had noticed that when the word "see" or "saw" or "look" or anything of the like was brought up in conversation around the reverend, other people tended to be awkward. However, the pastor himself used the word without so much as a flinch. It was odd (then again, he noticed many odd things, but the fact he noticed them was odd enough to begin with, so...).

"Has she remembered anything?" Tōsen asked.

Ulquiorra shook his head. "If she has, I've not been told," he replied.

"Hm. Good."

Surprised, the raven-haired male looked up at the reverend with confusion. "Good? Would it not be best to return her to the life she had? She must be twenty-some – surely the people in her former life cared for her far more than anyone here does," he pointed out, sure not to directly include himself in the "caring" group.

"I don't think that's possible," the preacher countered. "Seldom have I known anyone to love someone so much, so fully, and so quickly as we have come to adore her. If man were as open to the love of God as we are to the love of Miss Orihime," he remarked, "I believe the world would be a far better place."

Ulquiorra made no comment_. _In the case he did, he had a bad feeling the reverend would've broken out in a passionate sermon, using his housemate as a metaphor all the way. He was already here for church – he didn't want to hear a lecture.

As the room finally filled, Orihime entered and guided Nina toward her father before going to sit down with her host. Again, she gave him a quick, heart-stopping smile before looking at the reverend and waiting.

The emerald-eyed man could never tell if she was just pretending to listen or if she actually understood anything the preacher talked about. So far, he knew she had listened enough to say the Lord's Prayer with the rest of the town, but whenever he looked at her during the sermon, she had a far-off look. He couldn't tell if she was daydreaming or if she was thinking about the words.

After the opening prayers, Reverend Tōsen instructed, "Open your Bibles to First John, chapter four, verse seven."

The flipping of pages commenced, and when Ulquiorra saw the title of the section, he realized why the reverend was so hyped up about godly love today. _God is Love_. Sighing, the pale farmer thought sarcastically, _Great_.

To his surprise, Orihime tapped him on the arm and pointed to the book in a silent question. After a moment's reluctance, he handed over his Bible. He watched as she read along with the reverend while he listened as the dark man spoke of what it meant to love one another in Christ. When the reading of the passage was over, she handed the book back with a gentle, thanking smile before closing her eyes to listen.

She was an odd one. Ulquiorra doubted she actually had any deep desire to know God the way the reverend did, but more that she wanted to be included and to have something to talk about with the reverend during supper that night. Unbeknownst to her, but there wouldn't be supper that night at the mayor's house. The _why_ of that was a secret, though, so he couldn't tell her just yet.

When the sermon was done, Orihime sat and waited for almost everyone to move out before asking, "Where's lunch today?"

"Nel's," the pale man stated.

Curious, the amber-haired woman asked, "How did this all start, anyways? I mean you eating with someone every Sunday."

Ulquiorra shrugged. "It didn't exactly 'start.' It had been like that... forever," he mumbled.

_Ah – the mumble._ Orihime had learned not to ask about the mumble – he got pretty ticked at her when she did. She didn't much feel like being death-glared at the moment, so she kept her mouth shut. "'Kay, cool," she smiled.

Relieved, the emerald-eyed man sighed and stood. "Come on. Nnoitra gets cranky when I make him wait," he explained shortly.

To that, the young woman merely laughed and followed him.

As expected, Nnoitra grumped at the two when they entered to a fully set table, but once Nelliel promised him pie, he went silent. When food was served by the glowing and circular mother, Orihime thanked her and both of the men offered a grateful grunt.

"Did the nursery get finished yesterday?" Orihime asked after swallowing a mouthful of deliciousness.

With a proud smile, Nelliel glanced at her husband. "Nnoitra finished the crib last night. It's this polished chestnut brown with painted red stripes. It's beautiful," she answered as she stared at her spouse with admiration.

Blinking at the sound of his name, Nnoitra looked at his wife and tried to figure out what she had been talking about. Upon spotting the adoration in her hazel eyes, he took it as a good sign and nodded. "Exactly," he affirmed.

Dry and frank as ever, Ulquiorra snorted, "Ignoramus."

Nnoitra chuckled and elbowed his friend without so much as a pause.

The girls sighed and rolled their eyes at each other. "Men," Nelliel shrugged.

With a laugh, Orihime teased, "You'll have another around here, soon."

"But he'll be cute," Nelliel added with a slight smirk.

Again, Nnoitra gave a delayed reaction and snapped, "Hey! I'm not cute?"

Kissing her fingertips and pressing them to his cheek, the platinum-haired woman assured, "Yes, you are, but babies are cuter than any and every man ever born. Also, you're handsome and altogether wonderful, so it's not as if you need to compete for my love with our baby."

Appeased, he went quiet again and focused on his food.

"You two argue a lot more than Ulquiorra and I," Orihime remarked off-handedly, "but you get over it faster. There've been whole evenings when all we do is glare at each other."

At this, Ulquiorra paused, and his emerald eyes glowered at her as if to question, "_Why the hell did you tell them that?_"

Nonetheless, she smiled, pointed at him, and giggled, "See? Just like that."

"You are impossible," he sighed before continuing his meal.

"You're easy to tease," the amber-haired woman countered cheerfully.

The pale man huffed and suggested in a desert-dry tone, "Wouldn't harass be a better word?" Beneath his breath, he muttered, "Harassed with sass. What a way to go."

With a bright half-laugh, Orihime bantered, "You're fun."

Ulquiorra didn't respond, but his vibrant eyes rolled discreetly.

Soon after blueberry pie, Nelliel took Orihime into the nursery to show her everything that her husband had done over the past few days while the men stayed in the living room in relative silence. While the ladies chattered away and could clearly be heard from the other side of the house, the pair of males sat and spoke without many words.

As Nelliel quite loudly praised her husband's craftsmanship (most likely wanting him to hear, too), Ulquiorra raised his eyebrows at his long-time friend as if to inquire when and how he had ever gotten interested, or remotely good at, carpentry. He knew that Nnoitra had a gift when it came to engines, machines, and hardware, but carpentry had always been an area that he hadn't been especially good at – he wasn't very artistic.

With a simple shrug, Nnoitra answered, "Grimmjow."

Grimmjow had always possessed a mind for building things, much like his namesake, Nicholas Grimshaw. However, he had never had the resources or opportunity to pursue his gifting, and so stacking shot glasses, building things for the townspeople, and helping with barn raising and house extensions had become something of a hobby for him. Ulquiorra had entered the bar once to find that his friend had, in a moment of obsession, had taken every glass in the entire place and created a nearly perfect crystalline replica of Walt Disney's castle. His fiancé had been furious with him for screwing with the glasses she had just organized a few days before, but even she admitted that the balancing and architectural feat had been impressive.

Leaning back in the large, comfortable chair, Ulquiorra asked, "How much of that furniture did you actually make?"

"I painted the stripes."

"Ah."

A pause followed before Nnoitra grunted, "Don't tell her, 'kay? I paid Grimmjow for the stuff, so he doesn't care what I do, but she doesn't know."

"Why?"

"I dunno," the lithe man scoffed. "She's just so damn proud of that nursery. When I brought home the changing table, she thought I had made it, and I just didn't have the damned heart to tell her I didn't."

Ulquiorra paused before asking quietly, "You did everything else, correct?"

"Well, yeah," Nnoitra huffed, "I painted the walls, put down the carpet, wired the lights, and rearranged everything a hundred times."

With a wry smirk, the pale man uttered, "She knows you didn't make the furniture."

Surprised, the oddly tall male questioned, "She does? How?"

"She's married to you, idiot. You knows your lies, even the white ones," Ulquiorra lectured. After a moment, he added as if it was an incredibly strange thought, "And yet she loves you." Shaking his head, he muttered dismally, "I will never understand women."

"Not with that attitude, you won't," Nelliel teased as she toddled into the living room. She plopped down on the couch beside her husband, kissed his cheek, and smiled at her guest.

A moment later, Orihime entered, looking somewhat dazed. She blinked, looking at Ulquiorra before glancing back down the hallway at the bright red and baby blue nursery. It was really a beautiful room; so much work and care had been put into it, along with the love of two wonderful parents. It was perfect for a new baby boy to sleep in, play in, and grow up in under the caring, proud gaze of his parents.

As hard as she tried to imagine the new Jirgua child wrapped in one of the dozens of blankets his mother had knitted for him, she couldn't. She couldn't even imagine the pudgy little hands or the cooing laugh she _knew_ he would have, and that all babies had. She couldn't see his miniscule, newborn body in her head, and she couldn't see those new eyes – full of life and innocent joy. As hard as she tried, her mind hid the images from her as if a wall blocked her way. It was like reaching through clay.

Just as the building frustration began to make her dizzy, she realized Nelliel had grasped her by the shoulders and shouted her name several times. Orihime felt a shiver wrack her body before her gaze focused on something other than the ceiling; Ulquiorra's eyes. They were... worried... either that or pitying. She decided it was pity, but pity for what she didn't know.

"Orihime!"

Averting her eyes from his emerald ones, Orihime turned to Nelliel and smiled after a moment. "Yeah?" she asked.

Nel's hazel eyes were overflowing with concern. "Are you okay? Do you need anything? What happened?" she badgered.

"Um..." A pause later, the amber-haired woman answered, "A daydream, I think. I don't know. I just got lost in my head, I s'pose."

A moment later, she heard Ulquiorra scoff, "Crazy."

Peeking around the pregnant lady, Orihime smiled and agreed, "Felt like it, yeah. Thanks for caring."

Even though he opened his mouth to rebuke her, at the laughter so clear in her autumn eyes, he grunted, grumbled something, and sat back again and pretended it didn't matter. Hands stuffed in his pockets, his emerald eyes avoided her gaze as he glanced out the window, quite embarrassed at being caught feeling something.

For another half hour or so, the quartet sat in the living room, chatting about how harvest would begin in the next few weeks. While Nnoitra had little concern, considering everything he did centered around livestock, Orihime learned that since most people in the podunk town worked on farms, it had become tradition to for everyone, including children and non-farmers, to volunteer to help with anything that needed to be done.

"The sense of community here is so unlike the big city," Nelliel remarked. "We all depend on each other all the time; we have to."

Giggling, Orihime teased, "Even Ulquiorra?"

"Even me," Ulquiorra answered to her surprise, "but I rarely need to."

Neither Jirgua contradicted him to Orihime's further surprise. She had known he was self-sufficient in most ways, but never asking for help in such a small community? She had also known that he enjoyed his independence, but to be separated from everyone seemed a little extreme. Nonetheless, he was also the most antisocial person she had ever met...

The conversation ended on that note, and after thanking their hosts for food, Ulquiorra led his houseguest over to the bar where they found Szayel, Starrk, and Grimmjow, unsurprisingly, drinking.

The first thing that came out of Orihime's mouth was, "Isn't it illegal to sell liquor on Sunday?"

"Who says I sold it?" Grimmjow questioned, raising a blue eyebrow. "Upstairs is basically my house; I'm just drinking with my pals. Right, pals?"

Withdrawing the beer bottle from his mouth with a distinct _pop_, Starrk uttered, "Yep."

Raising the glass of golden liquid, Szayel stated, "Apple juice."

"Does your wife know you're here?" Ulquiorra asked, eyeing the brown-haired farmhand suspiciously.

"Of course, she does," Starrk replied, continuing in a rather tired tone, "It's only my second beer, the girls are in the city until four, and I'm currently enjoying my man-time. I don't get a lot of it, y'know."

"What are they doing in the city?" Orihime asked, genuinely curious.

"Shopping." The answer was simple enough, but he said it so quietly that it made her wonder what they were actually doing.

Deciding it wasn't her business, she sat down at the bar, her legs crossed. As she did, she didn't notice the warning glare Ulquiorra passed to Starrk before he sat down with a stool between him and his housemate.

Grimmjow, beer in hand, smiled in his toothy way and asked, "What'cha want today?"

"I'll have what he's having," she giggled, pointing to the completely sober Szayel.

Scowling, the blunette huffed, "You're both such spoil-sports. What's the point of going to a bar if you don't drink?"

"We are drinking, Grimmjow," the doctor corrected. "However, we are doing so in such a way that does not destroy our internal organs."

"Like I said," the bartender snorted, "party-poopers." Turning to the emerald-eyed man, he merely grunted in question.

"Vodka," Ulquiorra answered.

Raising an eyebrow, Grimmjow questioned, "Straight up?"

"No, curly and upside down," the pale man bit back sarcastically. "Of course, straight up, moron. That's what I asked for."

The spiky-haired male paused before scoffing, "Someone's in a mood today." Without another word, he set a beer in front of his friend and walked away.

Glaring at the brown bottle, Ulquiorra sighed, "This isn't what I asked for."

"Do you really want to be out of your mind drunk before tonight?" Grimmjow chuckled from across the room.

Orihime glanced at her host, not noticing his surprise or the glare he had just shot at the blunette before she asked, "What's tonight?"

"Dinner with the reverend," the emerald-eyed man answered smoothly. It was a lie, but it was white one. She'd find out eventually, anyways.

Nodding, the young lady went back to sipping her apple juice. All the while, she didn't pay much attention to the men's conversation or any of the men at all. If she had, she would've noticed that every once and a while, Ulquiorra's gaze drifted down the exposed portion of her leg to her loosely tied grey sneakers. More than once, he caught himself, and still, he marveled at the fact that she hadn't found out and smacked him yet.

After a short while, Menoli came out from the back, dressed in her usual short-sleeved halter-top and short, cut-off jeans. She had explained about a week before that it was hot in the back of the bar which is why she wore as little as possible, but she had been glancing at Grimmjow when she said it, so Orihime had the feeling it wasn't quite true. However, she knew that the spunky blonde changed into something far more decent whenever she went out, but apparently she saw no shame in sort of dressing down when at the bar.

It was, after all, a bar, and it seemed as if everyone was used to her. Orihime had noticed that Ulquiorra didn't even blink or look at her, nor did Szayel or any other man besides Grimmjow, but he was allowed to look.

"Hey, Grimm," Menoli greeted rather casually as she hugged him from behind and got on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

While the amber-haired girl blushed, thinking the blonde was starting _something. _She had once. The pair had fallen over, kissing and... _cuddling_, as Orihime had later put it, and they hadn't stopped until Nelliel had noticed and screeched, "Not in front of the baby!"

It was kind of sweet in a gross way. They were so in love with each other, it was as if they were married already even though they still hadn't picked a date. He liked summer, she liked winter, and they both had issues with spring and fall. His favorite day was Thursday, hers was Tuesday, and they both hated Wednesday for some reason. However, for all the things they disagreed on (there were thousands of issues), it never deterred them from loving one another wholeheartedly (and whole-bodily, too).

Instead of starting something, however, the sweet greeting kiss was returned with a grin and a peck on the lips. Grimmjow then went about his business with Menoli following, helping, and enjoying being beside him.

Relieved, Orihime sighed and sipped her apple juice. She glanced to the side and found that Ulquiorra looked similarly consoled as he flicked the rim of the beer bottle and listened to the ringing sound it made.

_He's a quirky one_, the young woman thought fondly. He did weird things like flicking beer bottles for the sound, talking to his dog, hiding things that seemed to make no sense – weird things, basically.

Nonetheless, every realization of his weirdness was accompanied by a sense of accepting affection. He was an annoying jerk some days, but he always had his moments when he thought of others instead of himself and showed that he really did have feelings. It was like Szayel had said, he was a good person. His head was just ahead of his heart most days.

"You're staring."

Blinking, Orihime squeaked, "What?"

Emerald eyes dull, Ulquiorra repeated, "You're staring at me. It's unnerving." He really didn't have much right to complain (he did it to her all the time, after all), but it made him wonder was was going on in that pretty little head of hers.

"Oh." Blushing, she turned away and excused, "I wasn't staring _at_ you. I was just staring in your general direction."

The pale man didn't respond, but he didn't doubt her. It made more sense than the other options he had thought of.

For the rest of the afternoon, they sat together in silence, occasionally chatting with Grimmjow, Menoli, Szayel, and Starrk. Around four, Starrk left, and an hour later, Szayel made his exit.

That was another thing Orihime loved about this town – the silence. It wasn't awkward, but it was... blissful. It was like being home alone or being wrapped in a warm blanket waiting for sleep. It was so soothing, mind-clearing, and loving and comfortable all at the same time. A city... somehow, Orihime knew that a city didn't have this kind of peace.

As the sky outside turned gold and the clock on the wall struck six, Ulquiorra set down the beer he still hadn't finished and stated that it was time to go. Eager as a beaver, Orihime leapt off her perch, bid a warm goodbye to the bartender and his fiancé, and skipped giddily after her housemate.

"I'm so excited!" she squealed as soon as they were out of the building.

Although he had a feeling that he would regret it, he asked, "Why?"

"I have things to ask the reverend about," the amber-haired woman answered. Shrugging and holding her hands behind her back, she explained, "I don't really get it. I know he keeps saying God loves us, but if God loves us so much, why do we love other people? I know some people never get married or fall in love, so I guess God would be enough there, but if God is so big and if he's all the love we need, why do we love other people?"

Without much thought, Ulquiorra replied, "Because God knows what it's like to be lonely."

"What?" Orihime blinked, confused.

"You're right – God is big. One person's love is wonderful, but He built an entire world to love Him and for Him to love because He was sick of being alone. If He wants to love everyone in the world, then why would He deny us the same love that He wants?" the emerald-eyed man posed.

After a long, contemplative pause, she murmured, "That works." Her warm autumn gaze turned to him and she smiled, remarking, "I didn't know you had such a good understanding of God. You must have more faith than I thought you did."

"I don't." Ignoring her surprised gape, Ulquiorra persisted, "I told you, I don't believe in anything. I don't believe, and I don't have faith. I understand the God I was raised in as an intellectual subject – nothing more."

"Because you understand what it's like to be lonely and unloved, and you know what it's like to be sick of being alone, right?"

This time, his eyes widened. His stare turned glaring and he scoffed, "You don't know what you're talking about."

"I think I do," Orihime whispered, smiling in her most gentle way.

"No, you really don't," he snapped in his usual passive-aggressive tone.

Still smiling persistently, she questioned, "Are you telling me you don't think God exists?"

"I know God exists," Ulquiorra stated, "but I don't believe in Him."

With a slight laugh, Orihime objected, "But that doesn't make any sense! If you think God exists, don't you believe in Him?"

"Obviously not, because I don't," the raven-haired farmer muttered. "You don't believe in God either."

"No, I don't, but that's because I don't understand it," the autumn-eyed woman explained before inquiring, "What about human love? You know that exists, but you don't believe in it. You're a realist, Ulquiorra, and love is real!"

"Not always," he mumbled tensely.

Despite "the mumble," Orihime persisted, "Maybe not in the real world, but here, in this town, _always_, Ulquiorra. Everyone here knows how to really love someone." With compassion in her gaze, she sighed, "Somewhere, even you know how to love someone. You live here. It's impossible not to truly care for people here."

When he finally met her gaze, a curtain was over his eyes, shielding every emotion from annoyance to whatever else he might be able to feel. With adamant conviction, he uttered, "You would be surprised."

He had spoken those four words with such finality that Orihime could find no response. Instead, a deep feeling of sadness and compassion filled her chest because she knew she had been right. Ulquiorra understood loneliness and he understood lovelessness better than anyone. The overwhelming urge to hug him and squeeze the stuffing out of him came over her, but before she could act, he spoke again.

"Come on. We're making the reverend wait." Without another word, Ulquiorra stalked on, hands in his pockets.

It took a long moment, but Orihime finally blinked, shook the haze from her mind, and raced after him. Still, in the back of her head, something nagged at her, as if there was something more she could say to comfort him. Upon catching up to him and seeing the stubborn glint in his emerald eyes, she realized that there was nothing she could say that he would accept. She still had the itch to hug him, but she knew he wouldn't take that well, either.

She paid so little attention that she didn't realize that Ulquiorra had been leading them to the chapel until they stood before the closed doors. Confused, she was about to ask what they were doing here before the doors opened from the inside, revealing a room of rainbow colors full of people. She barely heard them shout "SURPRISE!" before Nina and Lilynette had their arms wrapped around her middle, almost tipping the group hug over and down the stairs. They would've fallen, too, if Ggio hadn't joined the embrace and balanced them out.

Shocked, Orihime looked around at the grinning group before realizing that _everyone _was there. Even the mayor, who stood with a smug smirk on his face and his arms crossed, was there, although she knew he was usually in the city for the first Sunday. Everyone had come to this... whatever it was.

Finally realizing that the children around her were saying something, she started listening just as Lilynette cheered, "Happy month-iversary, Hime!"

A stunned laugh slipping through her lips, the amber-haired girl asked, "That's what this is?"

"Of course!" Nelliel laughed, patting her round belly. "It's been a whole month! We wanted to celebrate!"

Looking around at the people, the balloons, the streamers, the cake, and the other assorted food, Orihime inquired in awe, "All of this because of me?"

"Gladly, my dear," Szayel assured as he approached and handed her a cup of fruit punch. "All of this for you, the greatest thing that has happened to this town."

The pink-haired doctor took her hand in his gloved one and led her inside as tears welled in her eyes and her heart beat out of her chest. Embraces from a whirlwind of people enveloped her in warmth and touched her so deeply that she could barely hold herself together. She found herself half-laughing and half-crying by the time Nelliel took her turn to hug the young woman, the heavy, fulfilling contentment settling in her abdomen.

When the greetings were over, the party began, and Orihime found herself swept up in the celebration. From every angle, she had the people who had become her best friends offering her cake and candy and snacky food, while the children gathered around her and spent much of the evening adoring her.

At one point, the amber-haired woman noticed the enormous, stocky sherif standing off to the side, his burly arms crossed and his lips straight. Explaining she would be back to Nina, she inched her way across the party until she came to stand beside him, smiling. "Hi," she greeted.

He glanced at her, almost disinterested, but she saw the hint of regret in his eyes. "Hey."

"You okay?" Orihime inquired, concerned as she looked up at his towering-ness.

After a moment of silence, the giant man seemed to deflate as he muttered, "I'm sorry."

"What for?" Autumn eyes kind, she asked, "For not finding anything about me? I don't mind. In fact, I'm glad."

"Like Ulquiorra says, this isn't your life," Yammy huffed bitterly. "I can't find a damn thing. You don't deserve this."

"No, I don't," Orihime agreed, laughing, "but I've been blessed with it anyways. I'm glad I'm here, Yammy, and if you don't find me for another month or another year, I won't mind." Setting her hand comfortingly on his forearm, she urged, "Enjoy the party. It's for you, too. It's for everyone! I don't want a party if I can't share it."

After a long moment, the bogglingly burly policeman glanced at her with the beginnings of a grin. "Thanks," he grunted.

"Any time," the amber-haired woman giggled before moving back to the waiting children.

As she sat down, Barney lowered himself into the chair beside her. A weary smile on his wrinkled face, he rasped, "Thank you."

Surprised to hear those words again, Orihime inquired, "For what?"

Nodding towards the spiky-haired teen across the room, the dark man muttered, "For helping Ggio. It's been too long since he had a compassionate voice in his life. I'm not too good at being comforting. This past month... I don't think I've ever seen him so happy and assured."

"I'm glad to help," she whispered genuinely. Smiling at the teen when he looked her way, she encouraged, "I'm sure you're doing fine with him. He's a wonderful, strong young man."

"Hm. That's his father in him," the old shopkeeper grumbled, nostalgic. "Some days, Jason seemed to have more of my wife's DNA than mine, too... he looks just like Jason did when he was that age. Acts just like him." His grey eyes watched with interest and amusement as Ggio and Lilynette started talking animatedly and remarked, "He flirts like him, too."

After another moment of comfortable silence, Barney got up without another word, and at that, Nina climbed into the amber-haired woman's lap. With confusion in her dark brown eyes, Nina asked, "Hime, what's flirts?"

Giggling, Orihime wrapped her arms around the little girl and paused before answering, "It's when a girl and a boy like each other very much and they say nice words to each other to let each other know."

Perplexed, the curly-haired child insisted, "Lily and Ggio don't use nice words. They use mean words, and they like each other a lot."

_Ah, the observance of a child_, the autumn-eyed woman thought, laughing. "You're right, they do. They say nice words once and a while, though," she explained. "They're not arguing now."

Nina's big eyes looked at the pair across the room. Lilynette, in her cherry-pink pants and lime green shirt, was laughing boisterously while Ggio, in his black skinny-jeans and gold t-shirt, sat beside her looking quite pleased with himself. Hime was right – they weren't fighting! They were using nice words for once.

"They're flirts?" the Hispanic girl asked.

Smiling, Orihime shrugged, "They're a little flirts. Not a lot flirts, but they'll probably flirts more when they're older." A moment later, she realized that she was using the completely wrong version of the word. Nonetheless, it was Nina who had started it, so it was really cute.

"Oh. Okay." With a brilliant, giddy smile, Nina thanked her and slid off her lap to go play with some of the other girls.

A moment later, Dordoni appeared behind the amber-haired woman, tapped her on the shoulder, and smiled, "Gracias_, _señorita_._ It means everything to Nina and me that you care for her so much."

"You're welcome," Orihime returned, smiling back. "Any time."

As the gas station owner walked away, she realized that she had just been thanked four times in a row. It was wonderful and weird all at the same time.

Over the next hour, almost everyone else thanked her for something, too. Grimmjow and Menoli thanked her for giving them something new to talk about; Ggio thanked her for making Lilynette stop hitting him; Lilynette thanked her for stopping her from killing Ggio; the reverend thanked her for paying attention during church that morning (how he knew, she had no idea); the mayor thanked her for lighting up the room with her smile (she had gotten the feeling that despite the fact he was a good man, he was a bit of a flirt); Nelliel thanked her for being a good friend; Nnoitra muttered a thanks for being there with Nel through her final hormonal stage; the Harribel sisters thanked her for being fashionable; Starrk and Tia thanked her for helping Lilynette with her schoolwork; and Luppi thanked her for having gorgeous hair (and for letting him play with it).

Finally, Szayel approached her and smiled. When he took her hand gently in his as he sat beside her, her eyes widened. Glancing down at their hands, she realized that he had removed one of his gloves and was "risking contamination," as he had put it.

Just as she was about to protest, the pink-haired doctor began, "First off, I know. Secondly, I simply want to thank you."

"What for?" Orihime scoffed, confused and still alarmed that he was touching her, skin to skin, voluntarily.

"Everything. Anything. Not just for me, but for everyone else, as well," Szayel answered genuinely. "As the reverend would say, you have blessed us all so much that words cannot fathom it."

With a tentative smile, the autumn-eyed woman remarked, "A lot of people have said something like that tonight. I don't think everyone knows, but I've been blessed by them, too. You've all accepted me despite the fact you know nothing about me – heck, I don't know anything about me."

"We know your heart," the medical man chuckled, "and we know that it's full of love, life, and light. That's all we need to know." Giving her hand a final squeeze, he released her and replaced his glove.

In that moment, Ggio and Lilynette ran up, carrying a large box with a red bow atop it.

"Present time!" Lilynette announced.

The Harribel sisters cheered and everyone crowed around, alarming the young woman once more. However, after a moment, she squeaked, "Presents? I-I don't know what to s-"

"Just open it!" Lily squealed, super-excited.

Standing, Orihime nervously pulled off the bow and opened the box slowly. The instant the top cracked open, Nina jumped up from inside the box and held out a smaller box to the shocked and frightened young woman.

Everyone had chuckled, or outright laughed, at Orihime's scream, but once she recovered, she found herself laughing too. "Thank you, Nina!" she giggled breathlessly, taking the smaller, long box from the little girl and opening it cautiously. As she pulled the collection of paper out of the box, her breath left her again.

The handmade storybook's cover had been adorned with drawings of dragons, robots, and princesses, as well as the names of every child she had taught over the past month. In the center of the page stood a super-hero like doodle of herself, beneath which was written _"The Adventures of Super Hime!_" As she began to flip through the pages, she found the story of her new life here, but instead of children, she was teaching stick-drawn aliens beside a lumpy, talking dolphin. She lived in a castle with a talking, sarcastic green cornstalk and his dragon. Her best friend was the lumpy dolphin, and her other friend was the pink poodle with white booties. Another friend of hers was a blue orangutan and the yellow monkey. In the last picture of the book, she flew through the sky toward a crudely drawn robot in order to save her friends. It made very little sense altogether, but the beauty of it remained.

"It's a book!" Nina announced proudly. "We made it for you!"

Tears blurring her vision, Orihime scoffed and grinned, "It's wonderful. I love it." As happy tears rolled down her cheeks, she was covered in hugs by children. Once they had all circled through, Nina came back and sat on her lap, ready to help open more presents.

Among the gifts, the amber-haired girl received a new, beautifully made, long-sleeved, earthy-colored dress from the Harribel sisters; a dozen classic books from Szayel that Ulquiorra didn't own; a pair of pink athletic-support shoes from Nelliel and Nnoitra that fit perfectly (as Nel had guessed); hair accessories from Luppi that he said he would have to put in her hair; a necklace made by Tia and Lilynette from the Coyotes; and a set of pretty hairbrushes from the mayor (for some reason, it seemed perfectly normal for that to be something he would give her).

The last gift surprised her the most. Ceremoniously, the reverend handed her a rectangular package. Nina tore off the bow with fever and shredded the shiny, blue wrapping paper to reveal a brown, leather-wrapped Bible with Orihime's name engraved in gold on the bottom corner. Immediately, she was reminded of Ulquiorra's Bible, and she wondered if he had gotten his from the reverend, too. Nonetheless, she thanked the blind man with a genuine feeling of awe and honor.

As she and Nina stuffed all of the scraps of paper into the big box, Nina asked which present was her favorite. Honestly, Orihime smiled and replied, "The book you gave me. It's beautiful." For that, she received another enthusiastic hug and an adoring, but sloppy kiss on the cheek from the little girl. Grinning, the amber-haired woman giggled and teased, "That was a good present, too."

The little caramel-skinned child released a giddy laugh before sticking a blue bow on her friend's nose and going into a giggle fit, rolling on the floor.

Soon after, Dordoni realized that his daughter had gone into silly exhaustion mode and he took her home to go to bed. With that, the party seemed to wind down. The food vanished slowly as people went home, leaving the plastic green table cloths empty aside from cake smears. Nelliel and Orihime sat together, chatting, as the room was reassembled by Grimmjow, Nnoitra, the mayor, and, reluctantly, Ulquiorra.

Finally, somewhere around nine, her pale host stated that it was time to leave. With one final embrace with her best friend, Orihime gathered the precious gifts everyone had given her and followed the emerald-eyed man out to the truck.

The ride home was silent. The amber-haired woman was still beyond giddy, but Ulquiorra made no remark to it despite the fact that she bounced happily in her seat.

Suddenly, she realized that he hadn't spoken to her once since before they entered the church except to say they were leaving. Had she struck a spot that was a bit too sore? He was too sensitive about certain things, but had she gone too far this time?

As soon as the truck stopped, he was out. Orihime hurried after him, leaving her things in the car, and stopped him before he reached the porch with a hand on his arm. "Ulquiorra."

His emerald eyes glanced at her, colder than the white moonlight that shone around them. "What?" he questioned, his voice low and impatient.

"I... I'm sorry. Earlier, I wasn't respecting you or your privacy," she apologized, "and I'm sorry."

A moment passed before his stare went blank instead of irate. "Fine. You're forgiven," he sighed.

Blinking, Orihime asked, "Just like that?"

"Just like that," he confirmed, nodding. "I was done being angry at you, anyways."

Another few seconds passed before the amber-haired woman began tentatively, "Y'know, everyone thanked me for something tonight... everyone but you."

"A little presumptuous, are you?" Ulquiorra questioned, skeptical.

Sighing, she persisted, "Hasn't anything good come out of this? You don't hate me – you've told me so. Is there nothing good about me to you?"

With a nod of understanding, he realized, "You are not looking for thanks. You are looking for approval and assurance that I see something – anything – in you."

"Well, not... maybe," Orihime shrugged, blushing and glancing down at her new pink shoes.

"You do not need me to tell you anything. My opinion does not matter," the emerald-eyed man stated as he made to move away.

However, her gentle but firm grip on his arm kept him in place. "It matters to me."

After a moment of obvious surprise, he replied, "It should not."

"I know. I'm sorry, but it does," she confessed all to readily, taking a step towards him as she eagerly awaited his response.

Ulquiorra stared at her with those unexpressive emerald eyes of his for a long, torturous moment. Finally, he sighed and pulled his hand from his pocket. With clear reluctance, he handed her the small box and uttered, "Happy month-iversary."

Stunned, Orihime took the present as if it was priceless and opened it with a caution unlike anything she had used with her other gifts. When she opened the tiny, silver box beneath the wrapping paper, her breath caught in her throat.

Two hairpins with beautiful silver forms and six-petaled flowers made of dozens of aquamarine crystals lay on the fluffy cushion on the bottom of the box. The crystals glittered in the moonlight, and the silver shone as if it was not silver, but diamond. She caressed the perfect pins in awe, unable to believe that this was _Ulquiorra's_ present. Glancing up at him, she saw nothing in his eyes aside from a slight sense of pride because he had shocked her speechless.

"They're perfect," she whispered at length. "How... when-?"

"It doesn't matter," Ulquiorra interrupted quietly.

Orihime didn't ask more about the pins, but she did hint, "The party was wonderful."

"Hm."

"Thank you."

His eyes widened and he refuted passively, "I had nothing to do with it."

"Green tablecloths, blue, green, pink, and yellow balloons, cake with dark blue flowers... really?" she persisted, smiling a bit.

"Many people like green and blue, girl," the farmer muttered, defensive. "Besides, I'm far too busy to be part of a party. It was just my job to make sure you didn't find out."

"Then why are you so grumpy now that I asked?" Orihime grinned knowingly.

Even in the moonlight, she could see the pink haze of frustration color his pale cheeks. After a long minute of silence, he grumbled, "It was Nelliel's idea in the first place."

"You helped."

"Only a little," Ulquiorra admitted lowly, avoiding her laughing autumn gaze.

With a gentle giggle, she held out the silver pins and requested, "Help a little more?"

After only a few seconds of reluctance, he took the hairpins from her and paused as he looked onto her beautiful face. Her eyes had closed as she waited, a content smile over her ever so pretty lips. Tearing his gaze from her mouth, he tucked her bangs behind her right ear and pinned a majority of them there, although a few strands still fell out and tickled her nose. With the other pin, he fastened the left part of her hair behind her ear, exposing the glittery pom-pom earrings she was so proud to wear.

When he stepped back and stuffed his hands in his pockets, he found his fingers shaking. An odd disorientation hazed him and feeling of warmth settled in his abdomen. Furthermore, a temptation he was unaccustomed to seemed to tug at him, as if a chain was attached to his chest and this strange, yet empowering feeling was yanking him towards the autumn-eyed woman. However, he found his mind resisting, and he took another step back under the pretense of inspecting her.

Warm eyes opening, Orihime smiled in absolute innocence and asked, "How do I look?"

Without hesitation, Ulquiorra answered, "Beautiful."

Her stare stunned, she gaped at him. "W... what?"

"Beautiful. You asked me how you look – you're beautiful," he repeated all too quickly. He sounded less embarrassed than he felt. He had never said those words to anyone – ever. He had never thought he would say that to anyone, either, but there he just had.

Blushing and smiling at the same time, the amber-haired woman whispered a sincere, "Thank you. That's... nice to hear." _Nice_ was an understatement, but she couldn't think of any other word through the giddy, flattered warmth in her chest.

"Hm."

They went silent for a long moment, standing only a few feet away from one another with moonlight washing over them. Neither felt the urge to move or to speak for a lengthy time, and yet neither could meet the other's gaze.

Finally, he voiced something that had been itching at his mind all day. "Today, at Nnoitra's... you were remembering something, weren't you?" he asked, half suspicious and half knowing.

Surprised, Orihime froze for a moment. What had that been? It was just a feeling... just a block, much like she felt when she tried to think about anything before her half-dream of being found. A few seconds later, she shook her head and denied, "No. I wasn't. I... I was just daydreaming – that's all." It was a lie, but it was a half and white lie. Besides, he had asked it as if he didn't want to know the answer, and the thought of hurting him even a little was something she didn't want to do.

Ulquiorra tried not to feel the relief that joined the temptation in his inner tug-of-war. Hands fisting in his pockets, he murmured a simple "Hm" in response.

Another moment later, the amber-haired woman submitted to the urge that had been itching at her for hours and she embraced him silently, surprising him and making him go tense. It only made her all the more aware of the body in her arms as she wrapped her arms around his waist and lay her head on his strong shoulder. She blushed as the thought of his naked torso she had seen weeks ago intruded into her mind and made her realize just what she had her arms around, but she persisted and inhaled the clean, manly smell of him. In her mind, not only was she hugging him physically, but her heart was hugging him, too. Maybe he didn't think anyone knew how to really love someone, but she knew. She knew that deep down, everyone wanted to be loved, and Ulquiorra was no exception.

Meanwhile, every cell of Ulquiorra's body simultaneously sighed in inexplicable contentment the moment her arms were securely around him. He couldn't explain it, but his hands itched to return her warm hold and to, perhaps, satisfy the temptation just enough to shut it up in the back of his mind. Instead, he forced himself to remain terse in her grasp, keeping the shivers of satisfaction from running up his spine. For what seemed like eternity, she stayed molded perfectly against him, flaring both the desire and the completion she managed to simultaneously make him feel.

Everything about her was crazy. Her hair color was crazy, her laugh was crazy, her giggles were crazed, her actions were always crazy, and her body was crazily attractive. To add insult to injury, she drove him just as crazy as she was in more ways than one.

As that craziness worked its way through every inch of him, he sighed and let his body loosen. At this, she smiled against his shoulder and held him a little tighter, her giddy, crazy giggle lighting the air around them. A moment later, in a sudden stroke of boldness, she got up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek tenderly before settling back against him as if she hadn't moved at all.

_Forget crazy – she's certifiable_, Ulquiorra thought, internally scoffing. The spot on her cheek that her hot lips had caressed so gently _burned_ in a way that was maddening, and the fact that she was playing coy about it pushed him to the brink of insanity.

Just as all sense was about to slip away from him, Orihime pulled away, looked up at him, and smiled with such luminescence and grace that his heart stopped. It didn't start up again until she laughed in her absolute innocence at his astounded expression and skipped back toward the car to get her things.

While she gathered her presents and headed toward the house, he could do nothing but stand in that spot, unable to move. It wasn't from shock because she had hugged him that kept him still, but it was the fact that he wanted her to do it again that had him paralyzed.

Before she could enter the house, he glanced at her back and offered, "Thank you. I... appreciated that."

Thinking that he meant she had comforted him some, Orihime grinned and giggled, "Any time!" before dancing into the house.

Ulquiorra paused, focusing in order to rid himself of those strange and unwanted feelings of temptation and titillation. When he felt as if he could think clearly, he made his way back inside, greeting Marcy and doing his best to ignore the sound of the shower upstairs.

He returned to his room and changed into his pajamas. As he sat on his bed and began to read his book, he heard the door down the hallway open and close. Somehow, he seemed to be acutely aware of her movements through the house as she scurried across the hallway, into her room, and open and closed her dresser loudly. For some reason, he had never realized how much noise she made before.

He sat in silence, listening to the faint sounds of her movement from the other room. He heard her bed creak as she climbed in, and he expected to soon hear the sound of her snoring. True to form, her deep breathing echoed through the hall within minutes, and the tinkling of the music box accompanied her breath.

Suddenly, Ulquiorra realized that he hadn't seen Marcy since he came into the house. Usually, she would be laying beside him already, and yet she was absent. Concerned that she had gotten outside, he got out of bed and hurried downstairs. He opened the door, surprised to find the porch vacant. Next he searched the rabbit hutch and the barn, and she was in neither.

Perplexed, the emerald-eyed man came back inside and checked the cellar and the kitchen. When he found both empty, he began to panic just a bit. Just as he reached the top of the steps, he noticed that the door to his guest's room was open more than usual.

Curious, Ulquiorra ventured inside. His eyes widened as he noticed the mass of black fur atop the young woman's feet.

Marcy looked up at her human and gave him her toothy, wolfish version of an impish grin. She could sense his worry, and she knew that she had given him a scare. He had reacted like that when they had played games, she had hidden, and he couldn't find her. Humans were so silly.

"What are you doing?" the pale man hissed. "Come on."

The canine batted her tail, her dark eyes imploring like a playing child begging for five more minutes before bedtime.

"Come on. It's time for bed," he urged, adamant.

Confused, Marcy's ears twitched and her head lilted to the side as if to say, "_I am in bed_."

"My room, Marcy, now!" he insisted, barely keeping his voice to a whisper.

For the first time in ten years, the black dog growled at him. It was nonthreatening, but it was unwilling and opposing. Along with the sudden defiant spark in her black eyes, he could clearly hear her imaginary voice in his mind saying, "_NO_." Also, she flattened herself against the bed and nuzzled the young woman's feet, nonverbally communicating the fact that she was going to stay with the human woman tonight.

"Why?" Ulquiorra questioned. It was a simple question, but it held meaning. She had never not hated anyone but him.

At this, Marcy seemed to brighten, and her onyx eyes glittered. He heard her loud and clear. "_I like her._" As her ears tilted back, she seemed to grin again and say, "_I know you do, too._"

"I do not," the pale man refuted instantly.

"_Do to_." The wrinkling of her nose showed off her canine amusement.

"You're a dog!" he scoffed quietly. "You don't know what you're saying."

Marcy gave him a look of such grim skepticism that it was hard to remember that she wasn't human. However, she was clearly telling him that she knew him well enough to know every emotion that crossed him, and yes – she knew what she was "saying," and so did he.

It was bad enough that he was having an argument with a dog, but the dog was winning, and that was worse.

"Fine," Ulquiorra sighed, "sleep with her, but don't bite her hands off when she wakes up and screams."

Marcy rolled her eyes at him and let out a low whine that sounded like a groan as if to say, "_Yeah, yeah; whatever. Go away now_."

Frowning, the emerald-eyed man huffed, "You're hilarious." When she closed her eyes and ignored him, he looked between the sleeping, beautiful young woman and the stubborn, black-haired canine.

Finally, Ulquiorra went back to his room, lay on his bed, and picked up his book. Setting down his book after fifteen minutes of reading the same paragraph over and over again, he sighed, finding that his mind kept drifting to the gentle touch of her delicate hands. Glancing down at his own pale fingers, he realized that his hands were still quaking.

How did she do this to him? She was beautiful, yes, but he had never felt anything so strong for anyone as he did for her. He still wasn't sure what it was, but it wasn't the love she was so enthusiastic about. If anything, it was that same temptation – that same terrifying desire – that had shaken him during her embrace.

He didn't want to enjoy the feeling. He didn't want to desire her. She had amnesia, for god's sake, and even thinking about wanting to _not_ be attracted to her like this was wrong.

She drove him crazy – she really did, whether she was trying to or not. She was wonderful and beautiful, but terrifying.

He would beat this. Ulquiorra promised himself, he would beat the desires of his flesh and he would beat her infinite charms. Although he was done disliking her, he was not going to fall into lust with her, and more than that, he was most definitely not going to fall in love with her.

* * *

**Love, Bunny-chan**


	10. A Few Steps Behind

**BOO! I live.**

**Thanks to Cerice Belle, Becca Romano, smylealong, 19Teardrop94, InfinitySign, , Lady Miel Cacao, EvilxLittlexNinja, TheCatWithTheHat, Mysterion21, ulquihime7980, Kohryu, xxxPureRosexxx, GothiqueXangeL, Guest(1), Albinos, sarilka, Guest(2), Strawberrydevotion, SilverSapphireWolf, Animecookie13, and Rin Sessys Girl for reviewing!**

**Lalala, adorable!**

* * *

"You're up early."

He said it frankly and without an ounce of emotion, but as Orihime shuffled into the kitchen, she noticed his surprise. With a tired smile, she replied, "Marcy woke me up." Recalling the tickling sensation of having the dog's nose sniffing every part of her face, she giggled.

"Hm." As he continued to tend the sizzling, meaty breakfast, he remarked somewhat absentmindedly, "She's a good alarm clock."

Large autumn eyes blinking, she inspected his indifferent expression. Raking her fingers through her tangled hair, she continued, "She's warm, too."

"True." While he turned the ham and flipped the pancakes, he focused on his own actions and not on her.

Out of mere instinct, the amber-haired girl inquired, "Were you cold?"

Ulquiorra remained silent.

"Are you jealous?" Orihime asked with complete seriousness. When he tensed, she assured, "I'm not taunting. I know that she means just as much to you as any human – heck, maybe more," she scoffed as a fond smile played at her lips, "but I don't want you to have to be jealous."

Emerald eyes meeting her gaze fleetingly, he sighed and uttered, "I am not jealous. I am... perplexed."

"Oh?" the young woman inquired, interested. "Why?"

"It is difficult to explain," he half-answered.

"How so?"

Groaning, Ulquiorra set down his spatula, rubbed his temples, and hissed, "For the love of Tōsen, stop asking questions." He paid no care or notice to the surprise and hurt on her face as he turned to her and pressed, "I do not have the answers for everything, even when the questions involve myself."

"I wasn't asking for you to tell me the meaning of life," Orihime refuted, crossing her arms and urging, "I just wanted to know what you're so darned 'perplexed' about!"

"And I do not know how to respond!" he huffed, mimicking her exasperated tone.

Turning back to his cooking, he left her frozen and stunned for a long moment while he tended the morning meal. Mentally, he was kicking himself for responding so thoughtlessly. He didn't want to explain what he felt. He didn't know how – hell, he had never felt it before in his life, so how could he know how to say what he felt? _That's no reason to punish __**her**_, his conscience advised. All the same, it _was_ a reason, because she was the reason for his abnormal feelings.

Finally, as he set his and her breakfast on plates, he exhaled again. Unlike how it usually did, the action did not release the tension that had grown over the mere course of a few minutes. Instead, the clenching sensation grew and he found it difficult to stop glaring at his hands.

_Tōsen-dammit. _They were still shaking.

He set her breakfast in front of her without meeting her gentle eyes. It took a long moment of hesitation, but eventually he sat with her.

As he drank his cup of bitter coffee, Orihime watched him as well as his movements. She had never seen him so disheveled – he had yet to change out of his flannel pajama pants and his white t-shirt, his hair was flattened on the right side and a bit crazy on the left, and the slightest shading of black stubble dusted his jaw. Beyond that, she easily noticed the tension in his lean forearms and the vibrations in his coffee that appeared every once and a while.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I reached too far again."

Stabbing at his pancakes, Ulquiorra replied, "You have nothing to apologize for. I reacted foolishly."

"Yes, you did," she agreed. At his stunned glance, she smiled in her usual, gentle way and added, "But I shouldn't have asked you so many questions. Curiosity killed the cat."

"No, it didn't," the emerald-eyed man returned frankly, "Marcy did."

His ill-attempt at humor didn't pass her by, and even though it was hardly funny, Orihime found herself laughing. Grinning and shaking her head, she snickered, "That's so gross and morbid it's amazing!"

A light flicked on in his eyes. "Like Bella?" he alluded.

His hand stung before he realized she had smacked him, and suddenly she was serious and frowning out of the blue. "_That_," she hissed, "was a dirty, rotten trick. Nel told me last week and I forgot to yell at you – you don't raise cows for butchering, only for milk."

Rubbing his sore fingers, he remarked with a smirk, "I knew you'd find out eventually."

"It's not funny!" Orihime protested. "I actually threw up!"

"Now who's being gross?" he teased, clearly enjoying every moment of it.

With a disgruntled squeal, she stood, reached across the table, and smacked him upside the head. Smug, she sat back down and continued to eat, ignoring his glaring.

"I hate you."

Autumn eyes glanced up, surprised. She blinked at him, setting down her fork and contemplating his tone. It wasn't hard or sharp like the words required. Instead, they were low and quiet, and she almost missed the lining of fondness.

A dozen or so seconds in, she realized that the word "hate" could have easily been replaced with "love."

Turning red as a ripe cherry, Orihime stared down at her half-finished pancakes. As much as she tried to restrain it, an instinctive, giddy grin spread over her lips. She couldn't understand the feeling, yet she had never felt so euphoric before. It wasn't frightening or confusing or worrying, but elating and clear and bright.

In an affectionate whisper, she returned, "I hate you, too."

Ulquiorra didn't say a word, but he released a soft, amused mix between a scoff and a chuckle. He had no wish to admit it, but the bantering between them had not only diffused the previous situation, but it had lifted his spirits higher than he had expected. While the main point had been to tease her, he was relieved that she hadn't taken his replies badly.

It occurred to him just how much her opinion mattered to him. As she had said the night before, it shouldn't matter, but it did. It mattered more than he wanted it to.

After breakfast was finished, he ascended the stairs to dress for the day while his guest volunteered to clean up. Only a few minutes later, the pale man returned, dressed in his grass-stained, dusty jeans and a pristine white t-shirt that fit his slim, lithe form perfectly with his green and black plaid shirt draped over his forearm.

Orihime did her best not to stare, but it was so hard not to. He was beyond attractive, and all her eyes wanted to do was look at him until the world imploded. Through the simple, white fabric of his shirt (and through the pleasant haze caused by her hormones), she noticed one thing she hadn't seen before; a black mark on the nearly white skin of his left pectoral.

Before she thought, she had stopped wiping down the counters and asked in surprise, "You have a tattoo?"

Those emerald eyes looked at her with a knowing glitter that seemed to gloat silently. He had known that she was staring, and he had no aversion to letting her know that he knew. Crouching to tie his boot, he answered, "Quite a few of us do. It's something of a graduation tradition, although it is totally optional."

"Really?" Orihime squeaked. "Nelliel?"

"Yes."

"The mayor?"

"Last I knew; yes."

"The Harribel sisters?"

"I was told so," Ulquiorra shrugged, pulling his other boot on.

"Luppi?"

With only the slightest sneer, he scoffed, "It's a pink octopus. It's also incredibly effeminate."

"An octopus?" she squealed, grinning, "That's so cute!"

"I knew you'd say that," the raven-haired man sighed, shaking his head.

Bright and giddy, Orihime asked, "What about the reverend?"

Standing, Ulquiorra slid on his plaid shirt and answered, "As far as I know, he's the only one who doesn't have one, aside from the children, of course."

As she set down her wet rag, she bit her lip and paused, cautious for once. After a moment, she smiled coyly and inquired, "What's yours?"

"Exactly that," he replied without hesitation, "mine."

Smirking, the amber-haired woman giggled, "I bet it's something cute."

"It is _not_," Ulquiorra retorted adamantly, his emerald eyes snapping to her gaze.

"Is it... a puppy?"

At that, he gave her such an incredulous, bored, "are you totally insane?" look that it had her toppling onto the kitchen floor, laughing, and literally rolling on the linoleum tiles.

Nonetheless, he pursued, "You realize I have a tattoo, and your first guess is a _puppy_?"

She would've replied, but she was too busy running out of air as she wheezed and guffawed.

"It's not a puppy. I already told you, its not 'cute'," he reminded, sneering at the dreaded word.

It took another few minutes of panting and squeaking, but she managed to rise to her feet, wobbling. A silly grin stuck on her face, she wiped her eyes and guessed, "Is it a dragon?"

"I fail to see the point of this. I will not tell you, and nothing your female mind can guess will be correct."

"Oh! It's a cornstalk!"

He sighed, closing his eyes. "You are a moron."

"You're a butthead," Orihime retorted, smirking and crossing her arms sassily. Giggling at his slight, impassive frown, she added, "But you're tolerable."

Sighing, Ulquiorra gripped the handle in preparation to leave. "I'll be back at five," he stated even though he knew it was pointless.

"I'll be here," the amber-haired woman shrugged simply. As he turned the door handle, she blurted, "Is it a bunny?"

"No, but _you_ are certifiably insane," the emerald-eyed man responded. With that, he exited unceremoniously.

Smiling to herself, Orihime shook her head at his grumpiness and decided to toddle upstairs to get ready for school.

As she entered the school two hours later, she found Nelliel slumped over the desk, sleeping peacefully (and drooling a bit). Nina had already stuck four flower stickers to her teacher's forehead and was working on a fifth when the autumn-eyed woman came in.

"Buenos días, señorita!" Nina greeted, grinning.

Returning her smile, Orihime replied, "Good morning to you too, Nina." She blinked at the sleeping woman, asking, "How long has she been like that?"

"Since we got here," Lilynette answered, popping up from beneath the desk.

Eyes wide, the assistant teacher asked, "Why were you under there?"

A moment later, Ggio appeared from under the desk, too. "Morning, Hime."

"What were you two doing under there?!" It was tactless, but it was the first thing that came out of her mouth.

"Talking. It's quiet under there, y'know," the green-blonde answered. Scoffing and putting her hands on her hips, she snorted, "Geez, you sound like Auntie Mila."

With a sigh, Orihime brushed off the remark and tapped the teacher on the shoulder. "Nel? Nelliel, it's time for school," she whispered.

Awaking with a start, Nelliel squeaked in a rather mousy way and looked around. "Oh. Morning," she greeted, rubbing her hazel eyes.

"Nel, if you're too tired, I can-"

"No! Oh, heck no!" the platinum-haired woman huffed, yawning. Sitting straight, she grunted, "I promised I'd teach these children until Szayel made me stop, and that's what I'll do!" As she looked around, she mock-glared at her kids and asked, "What are you all ogling? Sit down and get your spelling homework out."

Immediately, the children obeyed with giggles and grins as they sat beside their friends. As Nelliel regained her senses and found her record book, Orihime started by checking over Ggio's spelling. She moved on to the younger children as Nelliel wrote on the blackboard, and all the while, she kept an eye on the pregnant woman. She understood that creating a life was a strenuous task, but Nelliel seemed unusually exhausted. However, Nel showed no other signs of sleepiness, so the amber-haired woman let it drop for the most part.

During lunch, Orihime sat outside, enjoying the dancing rays of the sun on her cheeks. Closing her autumn eyes, she sighed contently and listened to Nina's quiet singing and the sound of the other children playing soccer farther off. The mild breeze drifted through the old roads and the overgrown, untrimmed trees swayed.

Humming, Nina sat behind her teacher's assistant and began to twirl the amber hair in her little fingers. "Your hair is pretties," she giggled as she tried to braid a few stands together.

"_Pretty_, Nina, but thank you," the lovely woman smiled, eyes still closed. "That's sweet of you to say."

With another girlish laugh, the caramel-skinned child continued to pet her friend's hair with attentive adoration.

Orihime watched the elder children down the road as they kicked the black and white soccer ball back and forth between one another, laughing. It was that kind of joy that she admired most about this town; the innocent, never-ending, childish happiness that built the houses, the buildings, and the people from the foundation up.

_Where did Ulquiorra's joy go?_ she wondered. Her simple smile faded as she contemplated the question. While everyone else seemed to have an inherent sense of happiness, his was buried within all the walls he had put around himself.

She knew she saw it sometimes; it wasn't that perverse pleasure he got from teasing her, but a sincere, genuine sense of contentment. She had seen it the night before after she had hugged him; he had been completely and absolutely at ease. That morning, he had been his old self – cynical and sarcastic with a nasty sense of humor. Nonetheless, she had seen that joy once, which meant he still had it somewhere. It was just playing hide and seek.

Suddenly, a shrill screech pierced the peace. Shocked, Orihime leapt to her feet before she realized that the sound had come from inside the church, not from one of the children.

"Nel!" Hurrying inside, she gaped and her heart sunk into her stomach when she saw the platinum-haired woman kneeling on the floor, one hand clutching the desk and the other holding her stomach. "Nel?" she whispered, voice shaking. "Nel, what-?"

"Szayel," Nelliel groaned, eyes shut tightly. "Get Szayel, please."

Orihime sat beside her friend and called, "Nina! Tell Ggio to get Szayel!"

Immediately, the frightened and worried little girl obeyed.

Sighing, the amber-haired woman urged, "Come on. Chair."

"I can't move," Nel resisted, shaking her head. Her face twisted in pain, her hands fisted, and a small whine escaped her sealed lips.

Frustration building, Orihime pulled her friend's hand from the desk, kicked the useless object out of the way, and acquiesced, "Fine. Lay down." When the teacher complied, the amber-haired woman allowed her to hold on to one hand with a desperate grip. With the other hand, she instinctively pressed her palm to her friend's lower abdomen, only to feel something soft and round beneath her hand. "The baby is upside down," she whispered, eyes wide.

_How the heck did I know that?_

"What?!" Nelliel exclaimed. "That's not supposed to happen, is it?"

"What week are you on?" the young woman questioned, not answering and still trying to sort out her own revelation.

"Thirty?" the platinum-haired lady guessed. After another sharp gasp, she nodded, "Yeah. Thirty."

"What's wrong?!" Szayel shouted as he burst in, gold eyes wide. Spotting the girls on the floor, he asked with clear concern, "Your water broke?!"

"No," Orihime answered, sounding much calmer than she felt, "the baby turned."

"Why does it hurt?" Nelliel whined.

"It's pushing against the membrane that holds it and the fluid it breathes inside your womb," Szayel explained. With a gentle hand on the autumn-eyed girl's shoulder, the doctor took her place beside the woman on the floor. "It-"

"He!"

"Fine; _he_ is perfectly all right," the pink-haired man assured, gently pressing on the teacher's swollen stomach. After a moment, he muttered, "Impatient, but all right."

"It's early, isn't it?"

Glancing back at Orihime, Szayel paused at the wondrous, knowing, and amazed twinkle in her eye. A few seconds later, he nodded and answered, "It-"

"HE!"

Sighing, the doctor corrected in a dull tone, "_He_ is not drastically early by normal standards, but yes – he is early. That doesn't mean much, though. He's her first baby; the first tends to turn earlier." As he carefully continued to feel the hazel-eyed woman's belly, he paused. Gold eyes perplexed, he glanced at the young lady and asked, "How did you know the baby had turned?"

_I don't know_. It repeated in her head over and over again; she knew, and yet she didn't know how she knew. It was the same as it had been the day before after looking in Nel's nursery; she hadn't even been able to imagine the face of a child playing and laughing and living in that room. A brick wall blocked her way, and trying to pass through the wall made her dizzy.

After a long moment, she came up with a reason and answered, "I felt the head." Nonetheless, there was no reason she should have known that what she had felt was the baby's head.

"Ah," Szayel nodded, not pursuing the matter further. "Well, it's good you called me. I'll have to be on close call these next few weeks," he murmured. He sounded neither upset nor bothered about the fact, but he did seem concerned.

When Nelliel drew in another sharp breath, the pink-haired doctor went silent again, his hands still on her stomach. "How long have you been having contractions?" he questioned quietly. Staring into the mother's blushing face, he repeated, "How long, Nel? I told you to tell me, and judging by your guilty expression you obviously haven't."

After a silence, she replied, "A few weeks. Only every few days or so, but it's... different from the kicking, right?"

"If you've noticed a difference, then yes, it's quite different," Szayel huffed. Exasperated, he scolded, "You should have told me."

"It was nothing. I didn't want to bother you."

"It's not nothing, Nelliel! You're not supposed to have these contractions for another three or four weeks, not even every once and a while!" the medic ranted; still, he wasn't angry, but instead, he was all to clearly concerned. "Every pregnancy is different, but this is ridiculous."

"What do we do about it?" Orihime asked quietly.

Glancing back at her again, Szayel sighed. Deflated, he began, "Nelliel-"

"Don't say it!" the pregnant woman demanded.

"You have to stay home!" he entreated. "If you're having contractions, the baby could come at any hour, any day between now and the due date. You can't risk being somewhere that I can't get to you if you suddenly go into labor!"

With a whine, Nelliel complained, "What about my kids?"

"Forget about those kids for half a second," Szayel implored, "and focus on _yours_. This baby is yours, Nelliel, and just as it is my duty to deliver it, it is your duty to do whatever is necessary to care for it. Harvest is starting, anyways!" he scoffed, "and so what if these children are let out a week early, Nel? Having a few little ones run rampant for a week is better than you going into premature labor in a school room."

Silenced, the teacher paused. Eyes shut tight and lips sealed, she groaned in frustration but nodded anyways.

"Good. Orihime, dear," the doctor requested, "help me get her up, would you?"

Eagerly, the amber-haired Orihime looped an arm under and around her friend's shoulder, and with the doctor, they lifted her to her feet. Smiling in what she hoped was a comforting way, she led the woozy woman outside and down the steps where all of the schoolchildren waited anxiously.

"Mrs. Jirgua is just fine!" the young lady assured as they helped the platinum-haired woman down the stairs. "She's just going to go home for a while."

"What about school?" Ggio asked, half worried and half hopeful.

With a laugh, Orihime answered, "You get an extra week off! Don't worry; I'll still be around, but you can't have school without your teacher."

Whooping with glee, the children laughed and ran off, joyously screaming and planning for their next few days of freedom.

"They're so cute," Nelliel smiled wearily. As the doctor and her friend led her through the old roads, the mother rambled, "I wonder if my baby will be like that. He probably will – children are all alike in most ways. Maybe I could get Lilynette to babysit him some time."

"That's lovely, Nel," Szayel patronized.

Orihime listened and laughed as they bantered back and forth, loving their odd interactions. Their casual, subtle bickering continued even as they entered the Jirgua house and situated Nelliel in her bed. They left the pregnant woman with a bowl of chocolate ice cream as she watched a _Loony Toons_ movie.

Sitting on the couch, Szayel sighed and rubbed his temples. "Tōsen-dammit, pregnant women are infuriating," he groaned, laying back on the cushions.

Brushing her amber hair back, the young lady seated herself on the armchair and smiled. "It's a little trying," she admitted, giggling, "but I think it's kind of fun."

"Well, as soon as this baby is born, that's it for me," the pink-haired doctor scoffed. "If anyone else gets pregnant, they're on their own."

Orihime giggled, shaking her head and correcting, "That's not true. You're always there for everyone, whether it's easy or not."

Arm draped over his eyes, he exhaled again and murmured, "I suppose so."

The young lady paused. Folding her hands in her lap, she recalled the odd feelings of running into a brick wall she had felt over the past two days. Biting her lip, she inhaled, exhaled, and whispered, "Szayel?"

"Hm?"

"I... I think I'm starting to remember things."

The room froze. An eternity passed. Finally, Szayel sat up on his elbows and looked at her, his gold eyes unreadable. "You what?"

"It's nothing much!" Orihime assured hurriedly. Keeping her gaze on her hands, she squeaked, "Just small things; feelings, not memories. I was in Nel's nursery yesterday," she confided, "and I looked around. She was showing me the blankets she had knit and talking about what she imagined her son would look like, and I... couldn't."

"Couldn't what?" the medic questioned, sitting straight and leaning forward in anticipation.

"I couldn't imagine him," the amber-haired girl clarified. Eyes hazing as she tried to recall and again met that stubborn wall, she pressed her hands against her ears and groaned, "It's _there_. I feel like if I could just step one more inch, I could see it, but I'm sinking in quicksand and I can't _move_!" Before the doctor could comfort her, she met his gaze, her autumn eyes frantic. "I can't see within my own mind. It's dark; everything is dark. Today, when Nel fell over, I knew the baby had turned, but I didn't know how. Do you have any idea," she implored desperately, "what it's like to not know who you are? I wake up every morning wondering who the heck I am. I remember my name in a few seconds, but... everything else is dark and empty."

"Orihime-"

"I know how Ulquiorra feels," Orihime realized in a breathy whisper. Shaking entirely, she confessed, "I understand the emptiness. His is in his heart; mine is in my mind. It's so... so dark in there, Szayel. I can't find _anything_, and everything I look for is dead and gone and I can't get it back!"

Before she could burst into hysterics, Szayel had knelt before her, his gaze comforting and patient (and strangely reminiscent of an expression she thought she knew, which only made matters worse in a way). With his gloved fingers, he wiped away the tears she hadn't realized had leaked out and cradled her face gently.

"_You_ aren't dead," he countered. His smirking smile made its way onto his thin lips and he chuckled, "Thank God for that. Ulquiorra found you, and I was able to save you. Your memories do not make you _you_, Orihime. It's not _this _that makes a person," he assured, poking the scar on her forehead. Lightly pressing two fingers to the left of her sternum, right above her heart, he averred, "It's _this_. You are more alive than any of us, and we all see it. Even Ulquiorra, whose heart is always a few paces behind and whose mind is the most objective and cynical of any I've ever known, is drawn to that life. Do not think for a moment that you are dead because you have lost your mind, because your heart is still there. Do you understand?" he questioned softly.

Nodding weakly, the amber-haired woman murmured in the affirmative.

"Good," Szayel smiled. Stroking her cheeks with his thumbs, he promised, "It will be all right. We will all stand with you, dearest, and if you cannot find your own light, we will shine brightly for you. That's what friends are for."

With teary eyes, Orihime nodded again and attempted a half-hearted smile. A long moment passed before she sniffled, her eyes moistened again, and she whispered, "I don't want to remember. I want to stay here forever with Ulquiorra and with you and with Nel and with everyone else."

Although the gold-eyed doctor noticed that his pale friend was mentioned first with an internal smirk, he chose not to comment and opted for petting her amber hair affectionately. "We will not stop loving you either way," he pledged.

Scoffing, the young woman wiped her eyes and muttered in almost a bitter tone, "I'm sure Ulquiorra won't mind at all."

"And I'm sure that's a lie, Orihime. Does it matter, though?" Szayel inquired, unable to restrain his curiosity.

Responding immediately, Orihime nodded, "Yeah. It matters."

"Why?"

That one single word took her aback. Frozen, she barely breathed as that single word ran through her head over and over and over again. Within seconds, that word – _why_ – drove her mad.

After what seemed to be an eternity, she divulged, "It just does. I don't know why. I... it shouldn't, but it does. He said it shouldn't, and I know it shouldn't, but everything he says and everything he does and everything he thinks, especially about me... it matters." Worried suddenly, she whispered, "Szayel, am I insane?"

_My **god**, she's in love with him._ The pink-haired doctor almost laughed. It was bound to happen, he supposed. They were living together, spending time together every day, and sharing their lives with one another. Inevitably, one or both of them would fall in love with the other at some point.

Szayel felt an unexpected pang of sympathy in his chest. Orihime had fallen in love with Ulquiorra – the single person in the entire town who would never notice her feelings or make an effort to love her back.

Ulquiorra was too damaged. He had grown to feel nothing but indifference toward himself and everything around him on the road of his life – and what a winding, weeded road it had been. Only a few years previously had he found a straight path. Unfortunately, only he could walk that path. No one could so much as touch it with the tip of their toe. He had blocked everyone out. To step off of his path was to give up his walls and his solitude. He would never be willing to do that.

Therefore, Szayel silently lamented for the poor child in front of him who sat there with vulnerability and such deep, innocent _love_ glittering in her autumn eyes. The beauty had so easily fallen in love with the beast without knowing his story or the heart beneath his rough, stony, guarded exterior. That love in her eyes could look past everything, even the fact that he had stopped loving anyone long ago. How could someone who hated himself love anyone else?

Finally, the doctor answered, "No. No, you're not insane. You're a bit lost," he chuckled, "but you're not insane."

Orihime smiled, and it was as if the sun was shining between the dark clouds. "Thanks," she murmured with a sense of genuine relief.

"Any time." Patting her hands, Szayel urged, "Go on. The children will be waiting for you. Go play soccer or hide and seek."

The amber-haired woman giggled, jumped up, and skipped gleefully out of the house as if she were nothing less than a ball of sunshine or an angel blessing the world with her presence.

Sitting on the couch once more, the pink-haired man sighed and rubbed his temples. Ulquiorra was going to break Orihime's heart whether he tried to or not, unless, of course, she really was an angel. In that case, there was every possibility that she would break his heart and give him a new one.

* * *

**Next one is almost done, too! :D**

**Love, Bunny-chan**


	11. Hidden

**Hello again!**

**Thanks to TheCatWithTheHat, Cerice Belle, 19Teardrop94, LiberumVersu, Maj-chan, SilverSapphireWolf, , Kohryu, Albinos, BeccaRomano, 123lamiko, Black Butler fan, and Lilly Honeythorn for reviewing! :D**

**Warning: ANGSTY/ADORABLE**

**And thank you to the amazing and utterly brilliant Maj-chan who found the PERFECT theme song! It's _Distance_, by Christina Perri. BEAUTIFUL!**

* * *

"Can't catch me!" Orihime laughed as she cartwheeled dexterously away from her little friends.

For the fourth time that week, she had gone into town with no motive but to play with the children. They had played soccer, baseball, every variety of tag, capture the flag, and a dozen other games they had made up on the spot (that usually ended up with everyone confused and laughing because there were practically no rules) every day. The week had come and was nearly gone, and although it was only Friday, the amber-haired girl couldn't wait until Sunday so that she could (hopefully) rope Ulquiorra into playing with them. She had resolved to do it (even if it required real rope) and was therefore unstoppable, she reasoned. Besides, he had been in an unusually not-bad mood recently, so she figured she would take advantage of it while she could.

Without warning, a pair of arms encircled her waist and the tiny body tackled her to the ground. Laughing, Lilynette pumped her fists in the air and declared, "I am the winner! In your face!" Jumping to her feet, she pointed at all her panting friends and cackled, "In all your faces, too! I win!"

"Lil," Ggio smirked, "that means you're it."

All color drained from the green-blonde girl's face before she squealed and scampered away at top speed.

Orihime helped herself to her feet as the rest of the kids chased after Lilynette. The game was something of backwards tag. One person was "it", yes, but it was _that_ person that everyone else chased down, not the other way around. It was entertaining to no end, and it was also somewhat like dodgeball with fewer bruises (well, slightly fewer).

Speaking of bruises, the oddest thing had happened that morning. Ulquiorra, out of the blue, had come home shortly before she had departed. Alarmed at his unusual appearance, Orihime had hurried to his side in order to ensure that everything was okay. As she had, she had noticed that he had a deep, darkening bruise that was oozing blood on his left temple. Of course, she went into panic-mode.

"Oh my Tōsen! Are you okay?!" she had nearly screeched.

Grimacing a bit, the pale man had retorted, "Shush, girl. My head hurts."

"W-well, what happened?!" She scrambled for a cold, wet cloth while he sighed, relented, sat down, and let her do as she pleased. "My gosh, you're bleeding!"

"It is nothing."

"What happened?!"

"I..." Ulquiorra had paused. His cheeks had turned the most remarkable shade of dusty rose before he admitted, "I ran into the barn door."

"Wh... how'd you do that?" Orihime had scoffed as she sat across from him. Pulling his hand away from his undoubtedly throbbing wound, she had cleaned the rivulets of blood from his white cheeks.

Another moment passed in silence. Finally, he repeated, "I ran into it."

"Like... _ran_?"

"No. More like walked. Bumped, really."

"Why?" At that question, she could have sworn that she heard his teeth grind a little.

"I wasn't watching where I was going, all right?" he had answered irritably. "I just... walked into the door."

"Was it open?"

"... Yes. I caught the side of it." As she wiped the bits of blood from his ear, he waited. When she said nothing, he had huffed, "Get on with it already."

"I'm cleaning as fast as I can. Would you rather I hurt you more?" Orihime had challenged, an incredulous smirk forming on her lips.

For a moment, Ulquiorra had watched her. Partially, he was wondering if she was just toying with him, but another part wondered if she was genuinely being kind – which, although not out of character entirely, would be rather out of character for the moment. "I ran into the side of an open door," he stressed after a while. "Have you nothing to say about that?"

"Be more careful," the amber-haired woman had shrugged. "You worried me sick coming in here with this – I thought someone had shot you in the head!"

"You..." He paused again. Finally, squinting at her in suspicion, he had questioned, "You aren't going to make fun of me?"

Blinking her wide, chestnut eyes, the young woman had smiled slowly. A giggle had escaped her lips before it turned into a snort and a laugh.

Abashed and embarrassed, Ulquiorra had jibed, "You could've been more discreet about it. I would've preferred a sarcastic jab to _this_."

"Ulquiorra!" Orihime had grinned, "I'm not laughing _at_ you! Well, I am, but not because you bumped into the door!" After calming herself while still maintaining her brilliant smile, she had inquired, "Did you really think I would make fun of you for this? Me? You may have two left feet sometimes, Ulquiorra, but I have two right feet with left shoes on both! I wouldn't make fun of you for running into a door when I trip on thin air."

"But it was open."

"So? You're always thinking – you always have something on your mind. It's not your fault you steered a little to starboard."

Well, in a way, it had been his fault – somewhat – considering the fact that he had been thinking about how incredibly soft her skin looked. It had become an odd and disturbing habit of his that he tried to avoid, but every once and a while, such curious questions would pop into his head, and he couldn't help but dwell on them. Finally, he came up with a response.

"Starboard is right, woman."

"Fine, port, then! Mr. Picky-McPickerson."

"You're really not going to taunt me? At all?"

"I can if you want me to."

"You can if you wish."

"I won't unless you want me to!"

"I don't mind."

At that, Orihime had frozen. He didn't mind when she teased him? When she tried to translate from Ulquiorra-speak, all she had come up with was "I like it," and that couldn't be right at all.

In that moment, she had, _of course_, involuntarily ruined the moment. As she dabbed directly on his wound, she had pushed down to hard. He had hissed, grabbed her wrist firmly, and forced her to stop. Instantly, she had begun to shake, but not out of fear. Instead, she had a sudden hot-flash as anticipation and adrenaline rushed through her blood.

In calm silence, Ulquiorra had taken the rag from her tense fingers. "I'll do it," he stated. Avoiding her gaze, he had begun to clean his own wound. "You go ahead. I'll be here when you get back."

"Promise?"

Surprised, his emerald eyes had met her autumn ones. Not bothering to question her odd request, he had merely nodded.

Suddenly, a child rushed into her and tackled her to the ground, bringing her out of her thoughts. "Oof"ing, Orihime sat up and watched the giggling Nina beam like the sun.

"I getted you!" she cheered, clapping like a tiny maniac.

"Was I it?"

After a pause, Nina squeaked, "Well, no..."

Sighing, the amber-haired woman sat up, brushed the little girl's chocolate hair out of her face, and smiled. "That's okay. For you, I'd be it every day."

The child hugged her around the neck, nearly squeezing her to death before she let go and ran off to play with her other friends.

With a smile, Orihime stood up and brushed herself off. Closing her eyes, she let the peace of the simple, clean, small-town air rush over her. Somehow, she knew that a city's air would have nothing so beautiful and clean in it. It was incredible.

Why hadn't Ulquiorra been cleansed? Every single time Orihime let herself fall into the glory of and life of the small town, she felt sad because Ulquiorra couldn't – or wouldn't let himself – see it. She wanted him to see it so badly; for him to just witness a tiny bit of the joy waiting to find him. Why couldn't he just open his eyes for once?

Frustration and sorrow overwhelmed her. He was so stubborn in his apathy for everything. Once and a while, she wondered how he had continued to care enough to keep living. She was glad that he hadn't stopped caring enough to keep himself alive – it would be awkward if she were living with a dead guy.

Sometimes, at night when she was falling asleep, she wondered if he had apathy for everything... including her. He didn't seem to not care as he had at the beginning, but he seemed like he didn't want to care. For all she knew, he was only acting like he liked her under pressure from his friends.

What did she know about him, anyways? He was so secretive and closed off. He was like a rosebush in the middle of a lush garden, whose blooms only opened when the moment was precisely perfect. In the entirety of the metaphor, Orihime couldn't decide if she was the gardener, trimming back the weeds and nurturing each and every plant, or simply a passerby, too naïve to know that roses had thorns and bees stung.

Were all the cuts and scrapes suffered between blooms really worth the short times that the rosebush flowered?

The rest of the day, Orihime wrestled with her own mental turmoil. Even as Nelliel agreed to come over the next day to teach her how to use her extra sewing machine, the amber-haired woman was distracted by her conflicted thoughts about Ulquiorra.

Returning to the house, she entered, heard her housemate cooking in the kitchen, and paused. Finally, she headed upstairs, fully aware of his questioning stare.

When Orihime sat on her bed, she suddenly felt herself go cold. What was wrong with her? It was just Ulquiorra. Ulquiorra, who had saved her _life_. Ulquiorra, who had taken her in and given her a home. Ulquiorra, who had gifted to her the hairpins – the precious presents – that she had tucked into her hair. Ulquiorra, who could be so kind, handsome, and considerate while still being cold, twerp-y, and selfish.

Soon after, he called up to tell her that dinner was done. Instead of jumping at the chance for food, the young woman sighed and curled into a ball on her bed without answering.

Marcy padded into the room after a few minutes, jumped onto the bed, and snuggled up against her back. The black dog sniffed the girl curiously. Smelling salty tears and sensing sorrow, the canine let out a low, sympathizing whine before cuddling with her in an attempt to offer comfort.

Noticing that both the girls were absent after a period of time, Ulquiorra grew suspicious. Well, worried was a more appropriate word, but he would never admit it, even to himself. As he climbed the stairs, he listened for the pattern of her breathing he was so attuned to. She was alive – that was good – but her breathing was slightly off. It sounded as if she was having trouble breathing.

Amidst the concern and confusion swirling around his head, he wondered if she was crying.

Upon approaching her half-open door, he paused. She seemed to sense his presence since her breathing quieted and the air grew metaphorically colder. Knowing she knew he was there, he tapped on her door and spoke questioningly, "Girl? Supper is ready."

Lowly, Orihime mumbled, "Not hungry."

"Not hungry?" the pale man echoed. She was _always_ hungry. She ate up to three times more than he did (yet she still managed to maintain her figure). "Are you feeling ill?"

After a long moment, the amber-haired woman realized that she _did_ feel sick. However, she knew she wasn't. The sunken feeling in her stomach wasn't illness – not physical illness, anyways. It was entirely emotional.

"Girl. Answer me."

"No." In a weak whisper, the teary-eyed belle denied, "No, I don't feel sick."

Her response perplexed him. Finally, he sucked up his indifference and inquired, "Did something happen today?"

"No." _Not exactly, anyways_, she added mentally.

"Are you... within the period of your menstrual cycle?" Ulquiorra asked cautiously. He had acknowledged long ago that they would have to face the fact that she was a woman. He did not expect to be told when her body engaged in its female cleaning cycle, but he had noticed the "hidden" feminine supplies she had brought home one day. It was rather uncouth to ask, but they _were_ living together.

"No," Orihime answered, blushing. She could hardly believe he had just asked that. Still, there was something terribly yet wonderfully domestic and casual about it. Her heart sunk lower as she acknowledged that he would never view anything about them as domestic. She was just a guest in his house and his life – not a permanent resident. "Could you just leave me alone, please?"

Alone? She was obviously in some sort of turmoil, and she wanted to be left _alone_? Steeling himself, the raven-haired man pushed open the door and stepped inside. "You must eat," he stated.

Biting her lip, the young woman tensed and closed her eyes as the floor creaked with his steady approach. "I'm _not _hungry," she insisted, her voice cracking.

"What's wrong with you?" Ulquiorra pressed. Hoping to get a rise out of her, he scoffed and muttered, "It can't be anything I've done. You'd be more violent if I was the problem."

"Not everything is about _you_, Ulquiorra," the autumn-eyed belle retorted in a whisper.

After a sullen pause, he admitted, "No. It's not."

"Just leave me alone, will you?" Orihime sighed. For the adamancy of her request, her tone was surprisingly weak.

His response stunned her. "No." Stopping directly beside her bed, he baited, "I will not leave until you tell me what is wrong."

Sniffling, the amber-haired girl whimpered, "Why? What do you care? Why does it _matter_?"

Caught, Ulquiorra stilled. After a long moment of hesitation, he came up with something to say. "If you're trying to punish yourself for something, you shouldn't starve yourself," he advised. When she didn't respond, he cajoled, "I made pizza. Can't you smell it?"

"_Not_ hungry," she repeated firmly. His presence was making her sick to her stomach. "Go away."

Stubbornly, he reached out and touched her sleeved shoulder. Without warning, she began to sob. Thinking he had harmed her somehow, he pulled his pale hand back to its place in his pocket. Curled into a tight, tense ball with the canine snuggled against her back, she keened bitterly, and her host had no idea _why_.

Alarmed and endlessly perplexed, he attempted to make amends, beginning, "I apologize if-"

Unable to bear the sincerity and hidden concern in his voice, Orihime pulled a pillow over her head and pleaded, "Go! Please, just leave. Please, please, _please_, leave me alone!" _Just leave me and let my heart break by itself._

After a long, unstable moment, Ulquiorra retreated. He closed her door most of the way, leaving a crack in case Marcy wanted to leave after a time. With that, he headed downstairs while she continued to weep for no reason he could fathom.

An hour later, the emerald-eyed farmer sat outside in his chair smoking his fourth cigarette. What was wrong with her? What had he done? A few seconds later, he wondered why he immediately thought it was his own fault. There was no reason she would be angry with him; not to the point of hysteria she was in, anyways. Over the hour, he had occasionally heard sudden, faint cries of anguish whenever she started up again. Every time, it broke something inside him, and he had the immediate urge to forget her request to be left alone, rush upstairs, and demand an explanation. Or hold her. He would do whatever it took to make her stop.

What could've made her so upset?

Perhaps he needed a woman's input. Standing, he crushed his half-finished cigarette beneath his boot and hurried into the house. From the shelf above the coat rack, he grabbed his address book before wandering into the kitchen. Picking up the wall-phone from its housing, he dialed the Jirgua's number and waited. Just his luck; Nnoitra answered.

"_Who are ya and whadaya want?_" the lanky man questioned on the other side of the phone.

"Nnoitra," Ulquiorra sighed, "I need to talk to Nelliel."

"_Ulquiorra? What the hell're ya doin'? When'd you get a phone?_"

"I'm in no mood for jokes, Nnoitra," the pale man muttered. "I actually _need_ to talk to Nelliel."

"_Fine; hold your horses, I'm a'goin'._"

A moment later, the cheery, feminine voice greeted his ears. "_Ulquiorra! Hi! What's up?_"

"The girl is having an episode," the emerald-eyed man explained. "I don't know what to do."

An exasperated sigh came through. "_What did you do now?_"

"I didn't do anything. She came home, went upstairs to her room, and when I tried to ask her what had happened, she started crying," Ulquiorra grunted, leaning against the wall and raking his fingers through his raven hair. "I don't know how to... fix her."

"_Fix? If she's upset, you can't just __**fix**__ her._"

"Well, what do I do?" Ulquiorra pressed, finding himself becoming more and more irritable by the moment.

"_Geez, Ulquiorra, you're really worried about her, aren't you?_" Although he didn't respond, he could _feel_ her smile through the phone. Huffing, Nelliel inquired, "_Have you tried hugging her? Sometimes all us girls need is a good hug. She may cry a little more, but just knowing that someone cares helps._"

"... Hug her? You want me to _hug her_?"

"_Of course! Don't you?_"

Pausing, the pale man exhaled stiffly. "Nelliel... Will that work?" he inquired. "She's already chased me away once."

"_I've never rejected a comfort-hug._"

"_The hell are you talkin' about? Yes, ya have!_"

"_Shut up, Nnoitra!_"

Sighing, Ulquiorra rubbed his temples and acquiesced, "Fine. Fine, I'll try it."

"_Good for you! Now, I have ice-cream to eat and _M*A*S*H_ to watch, so if you'll excuse me, I'll be off!_" Without further notice, Nelliel hung up.

The pale man returned the phone to its perch. The very _real_ idea of hugging her gave him the oddest feeling in his abdomen, but what had to be done had to be done.

By the time he had made it to her door, he already knew that she was asleep. Nonetheless, he stepped inside. Venturing into her domain, he inspected her askew position in which his dog had somehow shifted to fit around and over her perfectly. The woman lay on her back, one leg propped up, her hands thrown over the pillows, and her other leg stretched out with her foot hanging off the bed. On the other hand, the canine was tucked under her propped leg, her chin on her outstretched thigh. She was curled up to fit between the girl's legs precisely. Marcy was equally asleep.

Ulquiorra approached with light steps. Standing above her disheveled self, he looked at her tear-stained, reddened face with a mix between pity and worry. Again, he wracked his mind, wondering _what_ had made her so upset.

When she began to twitch irritably, he crossed the room, wound up the music box, and opened it. Its sweet, soft melody began to chime throughout the room, and immediately, she relaxed.

It was funny. The music had the same effect on him – it always had.

Making his way toward her bed, he knelt on the mattress carefully. In complete peace, she continued to sleep in silence. With a delicate touch, he brushed back her sunset bangs. As he touched her amber hair, he felt the liquid warmth that came so naturally with her presence flow through him.

Even after she had been crying her precious heart out, she was still beautiful. He allowed his fingers to run over her warm and rosy cheeks, appreciating the softness and flawlessness of her flesh. His earlier question was quickly answered; her skin felt like a rose petal in the sunlight. Warm, soft, and perfect.

After a short hesitation, Ulquiorra planted his lips her forehead. He supposed it was a good enough replacement for a hug. A simple joy revealed itself so easily; an easy contentment made its way into his chest. They emanated from her, and he was fully aware of it. Pulling back, he watched her smile in her sleep and sigh happily during her dreams.

To his surprise, her eyes fluttered to the point of almost opening. Still fast asleep, she whispered, "The thorns are worth the blooms."

For once, the motive behind her words wasn't hidden from him. "No." Stroking her cheek, he denied softly, "No, I'm not."

With that, Ulquiorra stood and left her in blissful silence.

* * *

**Love, Bunny-chan**


	12. Heartbeat

**Hi! I'm back!**_  
_

**Thanks to Luma, LiberumVersu, kadaj, Ayame-chan, ChimamareNoTsuki, heytherehoyhoy, Hazama-Chan, TheMarissaNight, xxxPureRosexxx, guitarist101, Animecookie13, Sarilka, Guest(1), , EvilxLittlexNinja, lovely smile, Lady Miel Cacao, Black Butler fan, Shadow, GothiqueXangeL, ulquihime7980, iluvmycorgi22, Maj-chan, Cerice Belle, TheCatWithTheHat, and for reviewing! If I didn't respond, I apologize. I lost my list of who I replied to (... again).**

**BEWARE! There is some stuff in here that may be a little awkward. I dumbed it down as much as possible (not made it dumb, just less intense and graphic). If it seems a little lacking in detail, it's because I couldn't bear to write it without my face exploding (and no, it's not sex).**

**Anyways, enjoy!**

**Also, you may possibly die from the fluff near the end.**

* * *

When Nelliel arrived at the house the next morning, Orihime was cleaning her dishes after eating the breakfast her host had left her. As brightly as ever, the platinum-haired woman skipped to the porch carrying the sewing-machine case and another bag.

Spotting her out the window, the younger girl hurried to the door. "Oh, geez, Nel, let me get that!" she fretted, taking the heavy case from her friend. "You're not supposed to be lifting things!"

"Calm down," Nelliel sighed, "I'm fine." Toddling inside, she looked around nostalgically. As she wandered into the living room, she murmured, "It's been years since I've been here, you know. Ulquiorra likes his aloneness."

"How long is 'years?'" Orihime inquired curiously.

"Oh... ten years. Not since his father's funeral," the pregnant woman answered.

A pause afterwards, the autumn-eyed belle asked, "How did he die?"

"Hm?" Blinking twice, Nelliel glanced at her friend and remarked without sadness, "Oh. He had a heart attack." She smiled, turned to her friend, and asked, "Where are we setting up the machine?"

Confused, it took a moment for the younger woman to respond. "Upstairs in my room," she replied. Why was Nelliel so easygoing about someone's _death_? "Ulquiorra found an old table for me. It looks like it was made for a sewing machine – it probably was, too. Can you make it upstairs?" she asked, worried.

"Of course I can!" the mother-to-be huffed stubbornly. With that, she made her way past her friend and began to waddle up the stairs.

As they finally reached the top floor, Orihime admired, "How can you keep going? Doesn't making a life take a lot of energy?"

"Yes," Nelliel shrugged. Sitting on the bed, she added, "But I have to keep going. I have to do _something_ – if I didn't, I'd go out of my skull with boredom."

As the young woman set down the sewing machine case, she asked, "Well? What do I do first?"

Over the course of a few minutes, Nelliel showed her how to set up, turn on, thread, and change the settings on the machine. From her bag, she pulled several colors of thread, a dozen pieces of practice fabric ranging in all colors of the rainbow, a few simple patterns, and some usable fabric.

After Orihime practiced stitching with the machine, she and Nel cut out a simple, round skirt pattern. During the next hour, Nelliel taught her friend how to hem, make a waistband, and use elastic. By the time they were done, the amber-haired girl had made a soft, simple, silky skirt with an off-white with dark-blue and mint-green flowers fabric.

Overjoyed, the amber-haired girl twirled around in her new skirt. Loving the way it wished around her knees, she beamed giddily, twirled in a circle, and laughed. "This is amazing!" she chirped.

"I'm glad you like it. It suits you," Nelliel complimented. Smiling knowingly, she hinted, "I'm sure Ulquiorra will think its nice, too."

With a rosy blush and very little confidence, Orihime asked, "You think so?"

"Of course, I do." As she tucked the extra fabric into her bag, the hazel-eyed woman sighed, rubbed her swollen belly, and remarked, "I heard you were in a bit of a tizzy last night."

Stunned, the young woman peeped, "What? How? When?"

"Ulquiorra gave me a call. You confused him something horrible," the mother explained, frowning sympathetically. When her friend's face darkened, she urged, "Don't be mad at him. He didn't know what to do. He just wanted to help."

"I wish he would stop!" Already tearing up, Orihime sunk onto the bed, rubbed her eyes, and whimpered, "I wish he would just stop. I can't decide what I think about him. I wish he would just make up his mind – he can either care or not care, not both. I'm sick of figuring it out for him!"

"Hime, sweetie," Nelliel consoled while sitting beside and half-hugging her, "Ulquiorra doesn't mean it like that. He doesn't know how to just _care_ – no one ever taught him. His father never tried. His mother..." After a pause, she shook her head and sighed, "Well, she definitely didn't try. Please," she implored, "try to have compassion for him. His mistakes _are_ mistakes, but he doesn't realize that. He _wants_ to care about you, but he just doesn't know _how_."

Wiping away the tears as they rolled down her cheeks, the amber-haired girl whispered, "I can't keep doing this, Nel. He tells me I'm 'tolerable.' He thinks my company is pleasant enough – especially when I don't ask him stupid questions. Then, out of the blue, he... he snaps at me, presses into my heart where he won't let me touch in _him_, and..." Shaking, she murmured, "He makes me feel like I'm important and special to him, and I know I'm not. He says things, and he just looks at me like I matter sometimes, and then the light in his eyes vanishes and I'm just 'tolerable' again!"

"Oh, sweetie," Nel soothed, holding the girl tighter as she wept. "I'm so sorry, sweetie."

"But whenever I see that light in his eyes," Orihime lamented, "I _feel_ something! I don't just feel it – I know it in my head and my heart that it's _real_! It's the only thing I know is real, and I can't let go of that, but it hurts so much to hold on!"

Petting her friend's amber hair, Nelliel sighed. After the young woman had cried a little more, the tears soaking into the pregnant woman's shirt, she spoke. "Orihime," she asked, "what do you need to do? Not what do you want; what do you _need_ to do? If you need to have time to breathe, we'll figure it out. Nnoi and I can always turn the living room into another bedroom for however long you need."

The autumn-eyed girl paused. The tears ceased, and the thought wormed its way into her head. What if she left? Not forever; just for a little while. Would Ulquiorra understand why? Probably not – she didn't even understand it herself. What would happen if she left?

"I don't know," she replied. Shaking her head, she repeated weakly, "I don't know, Nel."

"Whatever you decide," the hazel-eyed woman promised, "we'll make it work." Grunting, she pushed off the bed and got to her feet, explaining, "Szayel made me promise not to stay out too long. I should be getting home."

Smiling a bit, Orihime nodded and agreed, "Yeah, you should. Szayel wouldn't be too happy if you didn't."

Before Nelliel could laugh, she placed a hand on her stomach, paled, and released a tiny squeak. "Hime?" she gasped. With frantic fear in her eyes, she whispered, "I think my water just broke."

"Your what?!"

"Szayel said – my gosh, I'm not supposed to go into labor for another two months!" Nel panicked.

Jumping up from the bed, the amber-haired girl urged, "We need to get you to Szayel – _now_. Come on, I'll drive you-"

"Hime!" Shaking with a mix of terror, excitement, and worry, the hazel-eyed woman burst with a smile, "I think I'm having an actual contraction! This... ow." She took in a shuddering breath as spikes of pain burst in her back and abdomen. "I think this hurts... yeah. It hurts."

"When was the last time you had a contraction? Even a little one?" Orihime questioned as she guided her friend back to sit on the bed.

"Oh... ten minutes ago? They've been getting shorter all day."

The younger woman nearly face-palmed. Sighing, she stressed, "Nelliel, didn't you listen when Szayel talked about your contractions?"

Rolling her eyes, the mother huffed, "Well, yeah. He said they'd get shorter when I went into labor. I think I'm in labor _now_."

"Nel, you've ben in labor all morning," Orihime informed frankly. "You woke up to a contraction, didn't you?" The older lady nodded. Calm and focused, she instructed, "Lay down, keep breathing, and get ready, because you're already in your active phase."

"Active – you mean the baby is coming _now_?" Nelliel squealed, shocked.

"Now, an hour, ten hours – somewhere around there," the amber-haired woman confirmed vaguely. "I wish I could move you to the clinic," she muttered, "but the road is so bumpy, it could mess with your contractions, you, and the baby. I'll have to bring the clinic here. Relax," she ordered, "breathe evenly, and whatever you do, _don't_ push. I'm going to go call Szayel."

As she headed for the door, Nelliel suddenly questioned, "Orihime? How do you know all this?"

Turning back with an incredulous smile, Orihime shrugged and answered, "I have no idea." With that, she headed down the stairs.

How _did_ she know all that stuff? She asked herself over and over, finding no answer. All she knew was that she had the confidence to get it done. A part of her was having a temper tantrum over the fact that her memory was so closed off to her, but it was hazed over by a simple peace of knowledge. She knew what to do, and she was doing it.

Dialing the clinic's number, she tapped her foot anxiously. When the answering machine played its message, she nearly growled in frustration. The tone beeped, and she immediately relayed, "Szayel, it's Orihime. Nelliel is at my house and she's in labor. Her contractions are only ten minutes apart, and they hurt. You need to get up here _now_. I'm doing what I can, but it'd be better if we had a professional, so answer your dumb phone and get your butt up here!"

Once she hung up, Orihime called Nnoitra. He would want to know; maybe he could find Szayel on the way. Unfortunately, he didn't pick up either. She left a similar message for him, as well.

Before she headed upstairs, she sighed, closed her eyes, and whispered, "Okay, Hime. Let's make a baby."

–

"Nelliel! Nel, hold on. No – no, don't push! Breathe!" Orihime insisted. Holding onto the woman's hand, she brushed her platinum hair out of her face and smiled. "Hey! Hey, look, you're almost there. You're almost ready. It's okay. It's okay!"

With a pained whine, Nelliel whimpered, "It's been hours. It _hurts_."

"I know. I know, but you're almost there!" the amber-haired woman encouraged. "Just a few more minutes, and you can start pushing. It's okay. He's almost here!"

"Where's Szayel? Where's Nnoitra? Why isn't he here?" the older woman questioned, nearing hysteria.

"Calm down!" Firmly, Orihime urged, "Nel, calm down. They'll be here. I promise." Internally, she was wondering the same thing. She didn't doubt that they were working, but not checking their messages? Szayel, especially, should have been there by then. Where were they all?

Suddenly, the door opened downstairs and a cold, irritated voice called up, "Girl! Why is the Jiruga's car still on my property?"

"Oh, thank goodness! Ulquiorra!" the autumn-eyed belle shouted. "Run into town and find that lousy doctor, will you?!"

In seconds, Ulquiorra had ascended the stairs and barged into the room. Upon witnessing the unusual scene within his guest room, his emerald eyes widened and he ducked out, closing the door abruptly. After a pause, he questioned, "Why is Nelliel giving birth in my house?"

"Look, it was an accident! She went into major labor at about eleven! Just go get Szayel!" she demanded.

"Why didn't you call-"

"I _did_ call him, but obviously, he's not here!" Urgently, Orihime demanded, "Stop arguing with me! The baby is going to be here in less than a half hour, and I've already spent six hours doing this alone! While you're at it, find his father, too!" she instructed. "I'm sure he'll want to be here!"

"All right, all right, you don't have to shout."

"Go!" Nelliel screeched, exasperated.

Outnumbered, Ulquiorra obeyed. Hurrying down the stairs, he grabbed his keys and ducked out the door.

"See?" Orihime soothed. "It's okay. Nnoitra and Szayel are going to be here soon."

"Good, because he's coming."

After a pause, the amber-haired girl questioned, "Wait, what?"

"I feel his head. Oh, gosh, that's weird! Ow! It hurts! Wh-I feel his head moving in there!" Nelliel scoffed. In wonder, she asked, "Is that supposed to happen?"

"Well, yeah, but..." Pushing off her confusion, Orihime steeled herself and ordered, "The next time you have a contraction, _push_. With every single one, push. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, I get it," the schoolteacher nodded. In a moment of realization, she inquired, "Hime, is he coming out _now_? Like... _now_?"

"Yeah. Now, Nel," Orihime confirmed. "Now," she sighed, "hold my hand as tight as you need to."

A moment later, the next contraction came along. Nelliel obeyed and pushed. In the process, she gripped her friend's hand as the excruciating pain shot up her spine. "Orihime-!"

"It's okay. You're doing great," the autumn-eyed girl assured. "Just another minute. Just keep going. It'll be worth it – I promise."

A few pushes later, Orihime withdrew her hand. After a peek, she paused in awe before breathing, "I see his head." Energized, she grinned, "I see his head! Once more, Nelliel – you can do it!"

With the final contraction, the baby's eyes and nose became visible. Cradling his head, the amber-haired woman gently led its head out. After the slightest twist, the shoulders and the rest of the pink, goo-covered child slipped out. Hurriedly yet gently, Orihime wiped the gobs of membrane off of _hi__s_ body and out of his head of jet-black hair before wrapping him in the softest blanket she could find.

Cradling him for a sparse moment, Orihime beamed in relief and whispered, "Hello there."

While his eyes remained closed, the tiniest, most adorable smile pulled at his lips.

The single reaction shot an arrow into her heart. She knew that face. That perfect, soft, lovely little face with the first smile on those tiny lips – she knew it. It was the most beautiful thing she would ever see, she decided in that moment. Nonetheless, she knew she had made the decision long before._ There is nothing more perfect or pure in the world than the first smile of a newborn._

Carefully, the young woman handed the bundle of joy to his mother. A look of utter elation crossed her face, and her hazel eyes lit with the light of a thousand stars. Her mouth opened in a silent gasp as she brushed a finger over his soft cheek. "Oh... oh my." Tears rolled down her flushed cheeks as she stared at the tiny face of her son. As he made a tiny, grunting sound, the platinum-haired woman remarked, "He's so quiet. Is he supposed to be that quiet?" she inquired, suddenly worried.

With a soft smile, Orihime assured, "You see babies crying in movies and TV shows, but they don't have to. He's the right color, he's breathing, and he seems pretty content." After a moment of admiring him, she giggled, "Nel, he's beautiful." Feeling tears fall from her eyes, she brushed them away and repeated, "He's beautiful. You did a great job."

"I couldn't have done it if you hadn't been here," Nelliel admitted. Sighing, she whispered in a touched, choked-up voice, "Thank you."

The autumn-eyed woman would've responded, but the door downstairs banged open, and the sound of heavy footsteps running up the stairs interrupted her. Half a second later, Nnoitra barged into the room.

Smiling wearily, Nelliel greeted, "Hey. Come look."

The towering man seemed frozen in the doorway. His eyes flickered between his wife, his child, and the amber-haired woman, his grey orbs swimming with uncertainty. After a long moment, he questioned, "You aren't going to yell at me for not being here?"

A look of surprise crossed her face. "Of course not. It's not like you knew I was in labor. Why would I be mad?" she asked.

"Because I wasn't _here_!" Nnoitra stressed.

"Don't raise your voice!" Nelliel implored in a whisper. Sighing, she assured, "If we need to talk about it later, we can, but right now, come see your son."

"Son?" Peering at the petite form, the tall man took a tentative step forward. As quietly as possible, he sat on the bed beside his wife. Finally, he reached out and touched the baby's forehead, obviously unsure of what to do.

Out of sudden reflex, the boy's hand wiggled out from his blanket and grasped his father's finger. A moment later, he let go, but the effect was clear.

"He knows you," Nelliel grinned. More happy tears dripping from her eyes, she creaked, "He knows us both."

"What's his name?" Orihime inquired softly, glancing between the overjoyed parents.

With a smile at her husband, Nelliel kissed his cheek, met his gaze, and nodded. Turning to her friend, she answered, "Benjamin. Benjamin Daniel Jiruga. Benji, Benny, Ben..." She giggled giddily, gently ran her fingers through the baby's fuzzy black hair, and whispered, "My Benji."

"It's perfect."

Everyone glanced at the pink-haired man in the doorway. He stood there with a solemn look on his face but a glitter in his eyes, as if he couldn't decide if he was glad or sad.

Immediately, Orihime asked, "Szayel, what's wrong?"

Shaking his head, the doctor stepped inside, looked at the blissful child, and remarked, "It's amazing. At the same time a life in danger brings sorrow, a new life brings joy." His gold eyes met the autumn gaze of the young woman, and sighing, he divulged, "Barney. He's in the city in the hospital. He had a heart attack. I had to go with him – I'm responsible for him. In the process," he murmured, once more eyeing the peaceful child, "I wasn't able to check my messages. I had only gotten back when Ulquiorra came to get me."

"It's all right, Szayel," Nelliel assured. With compassion and a tinge of sadness in her eyes, she explained, "Everything went fine. Orihime was incredible, I'm fine, Benji's fine. Will Barney be fine?" she asked, concerned.

Nodding, Szayel crossed his arms and confirmed, "Yes. He will. He'll need to take it easy for a while and keep his blood pressure down, but he'll be okay."

Orihime sighed in relief. "Good," she smiled. Suddenly panicking, she questioned, "What about Ggio? Where is he? Is he okay?"

"He's fine. He's with Lilynette and her family," the pink-haired man explained. "They have him covered, and you," he smirked, eyeing the young woman meaningfully, "seemed to have this covered."

Peeking at the silent, content little boy, she smiled slowly and nodded. "Yeah. I guess I did."

–

Ulquiorra sat downstairs on his couch, elbows on his knees and hands clasped in front of him. Waiting was making him anxious. He had heard nothing – no laughter, no crying – for nearly fifteen minutes. It was driving him mad.

The sound of stairs creaking brought him to his feet. A moment later, Orihime appeared, a bundled, blue blanket in her arms. With teary eyes and a weary smile, she glanced at the pale man uncertainly. "Hi," she whispered.

Emerald eyes wide, he looked at the bundle. "Is that-?"

"His name is Benjamin," the amber-haired woman nodded. Caressing his sleeping face, she explained, "Nelliel and Nnoitra are talking with Szayel. They asked if I wanted to take him for a while."

As he stuffed his hands in his pockets, Ulquiorra inched toward her. She didn't move, so he assumed she didn't mind his presence. In order to see the child, he stood beside her, nearly touching her but keeping his distance. Curious, he peered at the little pink face, taking in the small, smiling lips, closed eyes, tiny nose, and black hair. "It's..." After a moment, he found the words. "He's cute."

Her giggle caught him by surprise. "He is. He really, really is," she agreed. As her eyes began to water, she couldn't help but let out a short laugh.

Confused, Ulquiorra remarked, "You're crying." More tears dropped from her long eyelashes, the liquid in her eyes making the autumn eyes sparkle. Catching his breath, he asked, "Why?"

"Because this is who I am." Orihime secured her hold on the baby, cradling him against her chest. "This is who I was. I know it in my heart."

A sudden fear gripped the pale man's chest. He had said it over and over again. One day, she would leave. One day, she would be gone. One day, she would go _home_. Everyone else needed to grow up and realize that the fairytale wouldn't last forever.

He had never realized that one day, he would have to let her go, too.

Working past the lump in his throat, Ulquiorra inquired, "You mean you're remembering?"

"No." Shaking her head, Orihime sighed, "No. Not memories. Just feelings. My head is blank, but my heart is fuller by the moment. This face," she beamed, touching the baby's smiling lips, "I know this face. When I first wrapped him up, he smiled at me, and I felt it in my heart that I knew that face – that happy, blissful, 'I'm here. Thank you for welcoming me' face. It's..." With a scoff, she confessed, "My chest aches because it's so heavy with joy and longing all at the same time. I look at this face, and I feel so full and so empty simultaneously. It's beautiful," she giggled, "and terrifying. I don't understand it, but I don't know if I love the feeling or hate it."

Trepidation was added to his fear. Hesitating, he inquired, "Do you think you've ever had one? A baby, I mean."

"No, I haven't." Keeping her gaze fixed on Benji's peaceful, beautiful face, she repeated, "I haven't. If I had, I would know. I would feel it in my heart that there was someone who needed me. I don't feel that."

_**I **need you_.

Ulquiorra felt every muscle in his body relax. As he eyed her glowing face, he heard his own voice repeat that simple sentence over and over again.

_**I **need you._

Without hesitation, he wiped her tears from her warm, soft cheeks. His tongue felt like lead, but his mind seemed to be gladly repeating the words like a mantra.

_**I** need you_.

Before he could bring the sentiment to his mouth, she turned her autumn eyes to him and asked, "Would you like to hold him?"

"I..." After a pause, during which her closeness and the gentleness in her gaze sucked every bit of air from his lungs, he excused, "I... I don't know how."

Grinning at the opportunity to teach her host something, Orihime bid, "Sit down. I'll show you."

Ulquiorra did as he was told, sitting on the couch.

"Hold your arms like I am," she instructed, "like you're going to cross your arms, but not quite." She watched, amused, as he struggled to comprehend her instructions. "When I give him to you, you need to support his head. He doesn't have any control over his spine yet."

With every bit of caution, she slipped the baby into his arms. As soon as Ulquiorra had a hold on Benji, Orihime adjusted his arms in order to support the tiny body properly.

"There," she smiled, pulling back. "Perfect." She sat beside the emerald-eyed man, not bothering with his personal space since she felt she should keep an eye on them in case Ulquiorra got bored of holding him.

Both amazed and terrified, Ulquiorra scanned the baby's face. It was _moving_ and _warm_ and it made him feel... good. He couldn't explain it past that. He realized that he needed to start calling the baby _he _if only to appease Nelliel. Nonetheless, it was so hard for him to fathom the fact that something so small was alive. Yet there _he_ was, breathing and _living_ in his grasp. He could feel _his_ heartbeat in his arms. It was faster than his own, but it was there. _He_ was incomprehensible.

"Stop thinking about it."

Surprised, he turned his emerald eyes to the woman beside him. He was further shocked by her closeness. Nonetheless, his glance must've conveyed his confusion since she answered.

"Your eyebrows scrunch when you're thinking hard," Orihime explained simply. Shrugging, she blushed and mumbled, "It's just something I've noticed." _It's kind of cute, too_.

"Hm." After an understanding murmur, Ulquiorra looked back to the baby. The moment he focused on _not_ thinking, an awe overcame him. For a moment, he allowed himself simply to feel Benji's heartbeat and watch his slumbering face. A sense of ease soothed him. The warmth of a baby in his arms and the heat of her body beside him seemed all too natural, and he caught himself wishing that she would move closer.

"Ulquiorra?"

"Hm?"

"I... Nel and I..." Fixing her gaze on the floor, she confessed, "I've been thinking that I should leave the house for a while. Nel said... I just... Just for a while," she stuttered. The heat of a sun turned her cheeks deep crimson, and she felt herself overwhelmed with shame. His shock was tangible, and she anticipated the bitter taste of anger to follow it.

"No."

Autumn-eyes widening, she tensed up and her throat locked. Stunned by his response, she breathed, "What?"

"No," Ulquiorra repeated firmly. Still focused on the baby, he stated, "You will not leave this house."

Torn between disbelief and being flustered, Orihime questioned in a weak squeak, "Why not?"

With a well of confidence deeper than the ocean floor, he responded, "Because I do not want you to."

Since so many emotions accosted her all at the same time, she followed the one she knew wouldn't let her down – anger. Scoffing, she demanded in an irritated whisper, "When did what _you_ want become the guiding force of _my _life?!"

"You will not go," the raven-haired man uttered, unfazed by her hostility.

"If that's your attitude about it, I _will_ leave, and I may not come back if that's the way you're going to treat me!" she huffed, feeling tears – these ones of anger and hurt – form in her eyes.

"Then, what if I ask you?" Emerald eyes meeting her autumn ones, Ulquiorra requested, "Will you please stay?" Sincerity, honesty, and a tinge of desperation were evident in his voice as he pursued, "Stay. Please."

He hadn't said it, but she saw it in his gaze. _I need you_. _I want you with me. **Please**._ That weight was back, accompanied by a conflicting feeling of weightlessness. The pressure on her chest – that longing for _more_, for _closeness_ – weighted her down, but the relief and simple knowledge that came with the fact that he _needed_ her and _wanted_ her near him lifted her off of her tiptoes. Before she knew it, she was crying again and pressing herself against his side, her arms around his shoulders.

Ulquiorra was relaxed within her embrace, which undoubtedly made her feel more and more accepted by the second. After letting her cry for a moment, he asked quietly, "Well? Will you stay?"

Without hesitation, Orihime nodded and mumbled in the affirmative.

Relieved, the pale man allowed a lopsided smile to form on his lips. Sighing contently, he murmured, "Good."

"Orihime, you can bring Benji back up now!" Szayel called from upstairs.

Pulling away from her housemate, she hurriedly wiped her eyes and returned, "Coming!" Wordlessly, but with a smile, she took the baby from her host's pale arms. Cradling him carefully, she left the living room and started up the stairs.

About an hour later, Nelliel was able to get up (with her husband's help) and go down the stairs. After thanking Orihime profusely, the Jiruga family departed, heading off to wait in Szayel's car. Szayel promised to keep them updated on Barney's situation, and he, too, left the house.

With nothing prepared, Ulquiorra hurriedly threw together a few burgers while his guest wandered aimlessly through the barn. When supper was ready, he called for her, and to his relief, she came immediately. Around seven, they sat outside to eat, consuming their dinner in silence.

Before Orihime could pick up her plate to take it inside, Ulquiorra interrupted her. "Wait." When she paused, he instructed, "Come here."

Confused, the amber-haired girl obeyed. As soon as she was close enough, he turned her around, wrapped his arms around her waist, and pulled him into his lap. Immediately, she turned cherry red and peeped, "W-what are you doing?!"

"I am hugging you."

"W-well, yes, b-but why?" Orihime stuttered, fighting the urge to wiggle away from him.

"Because I would like to hold you," Ulquiorra answered simply. Taking her left hand in his, he instructed, "Relax."

It took a moment, but he was so warm, and he smelled so much like rain and hay and earth and _man_ – which smelled nice, she decided – that she couldn't help but snuggle a little closer. Laying her head back in the crook of his neck, she closed her eyes and sighed.

Several minutes later, Orihime finally spoke. "Ulquiorra?"

"Hm?"

"I like it here."

With a small nod, he confirmed, "It is a rather nice place to live."

"Not what I meant."

After a long moment of thinking, Ulquiorra understood. With a quirky smile, he obliged, "You may indulge whenever you wish."

"You mean I can sit with you whenever I want?" she squeaked, her eyes popping open.

"That _is_ what I said." Perplexed, he questioned, "Why does that surprise you?"

"Well, I just... It might be uncomfortable for you," Orihime shrugged, blushing.

"Why?"

As she answered, her entire face exploded in mortified embarrassment. "I'm heavy."

Ulquiorra snorted. "No, you're not."

"I am to! I'm over a hundred and twenty pounds!"

"To me, girl, that is not heavy." While she was silent in shock, he elaborated, "You are not heavy, you are not overweight, and you are not a burden. If you wish to berate yourself within your head for no reason I can fathom, you may use the word 'ample,' but other than that, I strongly disagree," he lectured.

"Really?"

"Clearly. I just said it."

"Oh. Thanks."

After that, she spent the evening in silence in his arms. For the second time that day, he could feel the heartbeat of another being, but in this case, her heartbeat eagerly matched his.

Finally, when the sun was gone and the stars had appeared, he carried her upstairs (since, yet again, she had fallen asleep). Recalling that she had planned to change the sheets on her bed after supper, he brought her to his own bed without a moment of hesitation. After throwing the soiled sheets of her bed into the wash, he took a blanket from the linen closet and lay down on the couch.

To his surprise, Marcy padded up to his side, clearly confused.

"Where have you been all day?" Ulquiorra questioned, petting her furry head.

The look of embarrassment on her face revealed that she had been hiding under the bed most of the day.

"Go on," he urged, "go to bed with her."

Not even pausing, the canine jumped up on the couch and lay down on top of her master, her muzzle nestled on his chest. _I missed you_, her dark eyes said.

Sighing, Ulquiorra lay back and closed his eyes. He couldn't and wouldn't argue with her. She would win anyways.

Just as he fell asleep, he wondered in the back of his mind what Orihime's reaction would be to waking up in his bed.

* * *

**Squees now, laughs next time.**

**I have it in my brain. I don't know when I'll get it on paper.**

**Review if you wanna! I love reading them and responding to them, too! :)**

**Love, Bunny-chan**


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